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LIFE, 



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LETTERS AND ADDRESSES 



DR. L.L. PINKERTON. 



JOHN SHACKLEFORD Jr., Editor. 



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CINCINNATI: 

CHASE & HALL, TUULISHERS. 

1876. 




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COPYPJGHT, CHASE it HALL, 1S76. 



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PREFACE. 



THE writer has generally found prefaces very uninter- 
esting matter. He will not inflict a long one on the 
reader. 

No one can regret more than he his lack of the fine 
art which enables one to tell the story of a noble life right 
worthily ; only the most tender aff*ection could have con- 
strained him to attempt so difficult a task. 

He has endeavored in the following volume -to allow 
Dr. Pinker ton to write his own history — to portray, by his 
own utterances, his character and genius. 

To those readers who have never heard of Dr. Pinker- 
ton before, it may not be out of the way to say that he 
was a distinguished preacher of the Reformation inaugura- 
ted by Alexander Campbell, and that the principal scene 
of his life and labors was the State of Kentucky. To 
those citizens of other States who have no direct acquaint- 
ance with Kentucky life, some of the chapters of this 
book may prove not uninteresting in setting forth the 
opinions and career of a Kentucky loyalist in a most 

eventful period of our national history. 

(iii) 



IV PREFACE. 

To those who knew Dr. Pinkerton, no introduction to 
his life is necessary. The mere mention of his name 
awakens interest. 

The writer desires to express his indebtedness for letters 
and information to Mrs. Pinkerton and her children ; to 
Elders John Taffe, Cyrus McNeely, Wm. Pinkerton, S. W. 
Crutcher, E. Y. Pinkerton, John Aug. Williams, and 
R. C. Ricketts ; to Gen. James A. Garfield, Regent Bow- 
man, and Thomas D. Butler. 

J.S. 

Lexington, Ky,, July i, 1S76. 



AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO 

ELISHA YOUNG PINKERTON. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

His birth — His parents — Early life in Virginia — A reminiscence — An inci- 
dent that changed the whole current of his after-life , , , . 9-14 



CHAPTER II. 

His manners — His reading — His acquaintance with Wm. Martin — Confesses 
Christ — All abounding hopes in regard to the church — Enters school at 
West Middletown, Pa. — Acquaintance with R. R. Sloan . , , 15-19 

CHAPTER III. 

He removes to Butler County, Ohio — He marries — Letters from A. Camp- 
bell — Scrap of autobiography — Studies medicine and teaches school — 
Practices medicine — Enters the ministry ...... 20-25 

CHAPTER IV. 

He meets Elder John Taffe — Extract from a letter — His preaching — Visits 
Kentucky — Meets Wm. Morton and John T. Johnson — Letter from 
Johnson — Johnson's admiration of Dr. Pinkerton — Their friendship — 
Dr. Pinkerton's success as an evangelist ...••• 26-30 

CHAPTER V. 

Removes to New Union, Woodford County, Ky.— Meets James Ware Par- 
rish — Removes to Lexington — His ministry in Lexington — Meeting-house 
binlt — Trouble in the church — Resignation 31-34 

CHAPTER VL 

Letter to his wife— Again an evangelist — Soliciting for Bacon College — Long- 
ings for home — Riches and poverty — A winter night .... 35-37 

(V) 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 

Settles at Midway — The character of its population — Organization of the 
church in Midway — Meeting-house built — The Baconian Institute — The 
Female Orphan School — James Ware Parrish — Major George W. Wil- 
liams 38-40 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Extracts from a memorial sermon preached by Dr. Pinkerton, January i, 1854, 

Midway, Ky. — Nine years' ministry 41-47 

CHAPTER IX. 

Letter from John T. Johnson — Christian Age— Meeting in Midway — Orphan 
school — Labors in Versailles, Mt. Sterling, and Paris, Ky. — Orphan 
school building burned — Extract from a lecture — Slavery — ** Cursed be 
Canaan" 48-54 

CHAPTER X. 

Letters and extracts from letters, 1853-1858 — Letters to his wife— Ring for the 
twentieth anniversary of their marriage — Letter to a Baptist minister — 
The religion of Christ a life to be copied — Controversy between the Bap- 
tists and Disciples deprecated — Letters to his daughter Virginia at school 
— Counsel — His opinion of John Aug. Williams's school — Messages to 
Mr, and Mrs. J. B. Bowman — Prince of the House of Judah — The Great 
Awakening — Letter to C. W. Headly — Affectionate counsel . . 55-67 

CHAPTER XI. 

Leaves Midway — Accepts a professorship in Kentucky University — Re- 
moves to Harrodsburg— His success as a teacher — The war — State of 
parties in Kentucky — Henry Clay — Dr. Pinkerton an unconditional 
Union man — Abraham Lincoln — The convictions of truth and duty which 
controlled Dr. Pinkerton at this time — Enters the Union army— Over- 
work— Sickness — Kindness of Captain Carr and family, of Louisville — 
John Taffe — J. B. Bowman . • 68-75 

CHAPTER XII. 

Removes to Lexington — Conflict — Extract from an essay— Southern prejudice 
— He is ignored in the church — The agony of the strife — New leaders in 
the Reformation — Dr. Pinkerton not a pattern of Christian meekness — 
The opposition to him unwise and unrighteous — Dr. Pinkerton's forti- 
tude — The voice of one crying in the wilderness 76-85 



CONTENTS. Vll 

CHAPTER XIII. PAGE. 

"^vcsigns his professorship — Freedman's Bureau — Savage prejudice against 
him — Letter to John Shackleford — Death of Marshall Headly— Death of 
Dr. Pinkerton' seldest son — Beautiful letter to John Shackleford and his 
wife — Lectures at Hiram College — Call to the Presidency of Hiram Col- 
lege — Declines — Preaches in Cleveland and Cincinnati . . . 86-92 

CHAPTER XIV. 
I'he Independent Monthly — Personalities — Editor of the Standard — Blood- 
raw Politics — Death of a negro — Louisville plan — Perpetual motion 93-100 

CHAPTER XV. 

Letter to the church at Harrodsburg— Reply of John Aug. Williams on be- 
half of the church — Charges of Lexington Elders — Action of the church 
in Harrodsburg — Dr. Joseph Smith — Daniel O'Connell — Theodore Hook — 
Robert Graham .... 101-105 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Dr. Pinkerton's Heresies — Organization — No immersion — No membership 
in a church of the Reformation — Inspiration — Bob Lawson — Bridget 
O'Flanegan and Mike, her son — The character of Dr. Pinkerton's al- 
leged heresies 106-118 

CHAPTER XVII. 

I..etters, 1867 to 1874 — Engaged in missionary work — Letter to Mrs. Crutcher 
his daughter — Preaches in Detroit — Warns his sons against a censorious 
manner in the pulpit — Letter to Mrs. Lusk — Man's immortality — Letter 
to General Garfield, inclosing him a prospectus of the Independent I 
Monthly — Letter to John Shackleford — Inauguration of President Grant 
— Napoleon in Moravia — Washington at Trenton — A scene in Galilee— A 
letter of reconciliation to J. B. Bowman — Dr. Pinkerton's grateful 
memory of Mr. Bowman's kindness — A letter to Miss Frances Smith — 
The Eclipse of the Sun, August 7th, 1869 — Letter to Cyrus McNeely — 
Visits Midway, Ky. — The state of the colored people in Kentucky — 
Their needs — Letters to Cyrus McNeely — Submits to Elder McNeely 
a plan for the establishment of a school for colored boys — Letter to I 
General Garfield — Letter to R. C. Ricketts on hearing of the death of 
Mrs. Ricketts — Letters to Cyrus McNeely — Letter to General -Garfield • 
— Appointed Mail-agent by General Grant — The fate of the Red man — 
Letter to General Garfield — Reflections on Constitutional Govern- '^ 
ment 1 19-147 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Letter from General James A Garfield to John Shackleford, Jr. — (General ^ 
Garfield's estimate of Dr. Pinkerton's character — His intellectual char- 
acter — The books he read — Comments on Draper's " Intellectual Devel- 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGS. 

opvieni of Europe " — Quotation from Chateaubriand — " Tennessee' s 
rartner" — Dr. Pinkerton's Religious and Political character — His so- 
• cial life — Little children loved him — Messages to General Garfield's 
children — Letter from Thomas D. Butler to John Shacklefqrd, Jr. — 
Dr. Pinkerton's unselfish life — His sympathy — His fearlessness — His 
humility 148-166 

CHAPTER XIX. 

* Trip to the mountains — Last sermon — Illness — Letter to General Garfield — 
Visits Ashland and the Woodlands — Grows worse — Letter to a "little 
friend" — Opinions of physicians — Message from Dr. John Shackleford — 
Celebrates the Lord's death — Last words — Death — Funeral Sermon. 167-183 

CHAPTER XX. 

His personal appearance — He was an observer — His understanding — His 
success in life, how achieved — His memory — His imagination — His wit — 
His sympathy — A winter morning incident — His courage — A scene on a 
steamboat — A scene in a Missionary Convention — His home life — His 
power in the pulpit— His culture— His piety 184-193 

ADDRESSES. 

I. Is the civilization of Europe and the United States preferable to Barba- 

rism? 195-227 

II. Address to a Theological Class . . 228-252 

III. Taste, or the .Esthetic Sensibility 253-277 

IV. Sermon — Subject, Humility 278-289 

APPENDIX. 

Thoughts and incidents suggested by correspondence with Prof. Burnett J. 

Pinkerton 290-296 

Recollections of Dr. Pinkerton, by Elder John Tafie .... 297-324 



LIFE OF 

L. L. PINKERTON 



o»<«» 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth — His parents — Early life in Virginia — An incident that changed the 
whole current of his after-life. 

FROM my early youth to the close of his life I 
knew and admired the extraordinary man of 
whom I am about to write ; and during the last ten 
years of his life we lived in most intimate and un- 
broken friendship. Now that he has passed over to 
**the majority," I feel it due to his great affection for 
me, as well as to the cause of truth, which he most 
heroically served, to give some account of him to the 
world. If I shall write at all worthily of my sub- 
ject, my book will not prove dull and insipid even to 
strangers, but in any event it can not fail to be inter- 
esting to Dr. Pinkerton's children, and to my own, 
and to a large circle of intimate friends, whose mem- 
ory of his life fills every kindly word spoken of him 
with the interest and beauty of their own devoted 
affection. 

Lewis Letig Pinkerton, the third son of William 
and Elizabeth Pinkerton, was born in Baltimore 
County, Maryland, about twelve miles from the city 



ryian 



of Baltimore,^ the 28th of January, 1812. 



10 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Wm. Pinkerton was by descent an Irishman, and 
had the Irishman's wit and grace. He was a social, 
handsome, pious, and tolerably educated old-time 
gentleman, schooled in the Presbyterian Church, 
whose faith, as embodied in the catechism, he faith- 
fully inculcated on Lewis and the other children of 
his early married life. His reading was quite exten- 
sive, and his memory a perfect marvel. He could 
repeat page after page of Lallah Rookhy Thomso7is 
Seasons, and Paradise Lost, and several entire books 
of the Bible without the variation of a syllable, an 
accomplishment which proved a great solace and joy 
to him when he was quite old and too blind to read. 

Elizabeth Letig, the wife of Wm. Pinkerton, was 
a German by descent. She was a quiet, sensible, 
well-balanced, affectionate, and very cheerful Chris- 
tian woman, passionately devoted to her family. 
With her children "her name was the synonym for 
all that is kind, and gentle, and Christ-like in woman- 
hood." I met her once near the close of her life, 
and was very much impressed with her quiet and 
dignified manners and her sensible conversation. 

When Lewis was born his father was a prosperous 
farmer, but in about a year thereafter he became in- 
volved in serious financial troubles by reason of se- 
curity debts ; and with a view to improving his for- 
tunes, migrated from Maryland and settled in Ches- 
ter County, Penn. Here on a worn and sterile farm 
he lived and toiled ; and besides his own wife and 
children, his father and mother, two brothers and a 
sister lived with him in a roomy old stone house 
with a comfortable frame addition. The old walls, 
if they could speak, could doubtless tell the common- 



EARLY LIFE. II 

place but always deeply interesting story of joy and 
sorrow, of laughter and tears, of the memories of old 
age, and the hopes and struggles of mature life, of 
childhood's glee and mirth, of births and deaths, and 
all those strange and wonderful incidents that enter 
into and make part of the mystery of human life. 
In this large domestic group — a Christian family, a 
house of prayer— -Lewis L. Pinkerton's mind awoke 
from the unremembered dream of infancy, and re- 
ceived its first impressions of the great world and 
the mysterious tragic life into which, by the provi- 
dence of God, it had been introduced. That we may 
remember the time, I note that Madison was Presi- 
dent ; that the second war with England had just 
closed ; that Waterloo had been recently fought ; and 
that Napoleon was a prisoner on St. Helena. 

The transmitted revolutionary hostility to Eng- 
land, revived by the late war, burned fiercely in 
American hearts, and the story of Napoleon's 
marches and victories and defeats was known and 
read of all men. The subtle influence of these 
times and events was seen in Dr. Pinkerton's opin- 
ions and character to the last years of his life. It 
manifested itself in a lingering antipathy to England, 
which his good sense repressed, but which, under 
sudden provocation, broke bounds and poured forth 
red hot ; and in an unwarranted partiality for the 
great soldier, whose baleful star went down in blood 
on the field of Waterloo. At this period, too, was 
born that intense patriotism which glowed so 
brightly all through his life, and most brightly — 
even at a white heat — in the dark hour of his 
country's peril. In the last years of his life he was 



12 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

wont to attribute his fervent love of country in part 
to his having heard men talk of the Revolutionary 
War who had taken part in it, and who had seen 
Washington and the fathers. 

Dr. Pinkerton's first school-teacher was Samuel 
Johnson, a gentleman of more than ordinary scholar- 
ship for his day. He was a great favorite with the 
Pinkertons ; and a new-comer into the family group 
of the old stone house was graced with the name of 
Samuel Johnson Pinkerton — the same S. J. Pinker- 
ton who, in after years, was noted as an eloquent 
preacher among the Disciples, and whose unex- 
pected change to the Episcopal Church about 
twenty years since provoked some sharp criticisms 
from the scribes of the " Reformation." 

Two years of unprofitable farming brought new 
financial difficulties to Wm. Pinkerton, and- he re- 
sorted to school-teaching to supply the little Pinker- 
tons with bread. He taught for two years in Ches- 
ter County, Penn. Lewis was one of his pupils. 
He then moved to West Liberty, Virginia, about 
six miles from Bethany, the home of Alexander 
Campbell. The old students of Bethany will readily 
recall the place. 

The life of Lewis in West Virginia is thus de- 
scribed by his elder brother William : 

*' After his father's removal to West Virginia, his time 
was spent alternately between attendance at school and 
such labors on the farm as his youth enabled him to 
perform. As he grew older his time became more and 
more occupied in labors of various kinds, such as mining 
coal, chopping cord -wood, building post and rail fence, as 
well as the ordinary labors of the farm at all seasons of 



EARLY LIFE. 1 3 

the year. He was always very industrious and persever- 
ing in whatever he engaged to do, and if in company 
with others was generally found in the lead.'* 

In an unpublished manuscript, Dr. Pinkerton 
gives the following interesting reminiscence of his 
early life in West Virginia : 

^'I begin with a reminiscence. In the spring of the 
year 1830, I was engaged in building a post-and-rail fence 
on a farm about four miles distant from Bethany, West 
Va. It is interesting to remember, at this distance of 
time, the promising contract I had of it — black locust 
posts, black walnut rails, all taken from the stump, and 
fence set for twenty-five cents per pannel of eight feet. 
The encouraging feature of the business was that the 
money was all clear, ' barring ' the use of bone and mus- 
cle. But the most interesting circumstances connected 
with that speculation was this : on a certain morning dur- 
ing the progress of the work I casually took from a table 
in the room in which I had slept a pamphlet, which proved 
to be the third number of the first volume of the Millen- 
nial Harbinger, I opened on the first article, written by 
Mr. Campbell himself, and read : 

** 'An appeal to editors of religious papers generally 
and to Mr. Brantly particularly for justice.* Such was 
the title of the article, which proceeded thus : * Often 
have I said, and often have I written, that truth — truth 
eternal and divine, has long been with me the pearl of 
great price. If I have lost sight of truth, God, the searcher 
of all hearts, knows I have not done it intentionally. 
With my whole heart I have sought the truth, and I know 
that I have found it — not all truth, but the life-giving 
truth as it is in Jesus.* 

'^ That sentence changed the whole current of my after- 
life. I read the article, and re-read it, till it became in- 



14 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

effaceably impressed on my memory. All day long, as 1 
swmig the axe, I conned it ; in the evening, I ruminated 
it. I was not in any church, nor likely to be, as things 
had been going for the five years then last past. Having 
been puzzled by some problems started in my mind by 
the Assembly's Shorter Catechism, and having failed to 
' get religion ' on any known plan, I had settled into a 
profound indifference to the whole business. But that 
title — ' a plea for justice * — waked me thoroughly. I had 
not seen a newspaper of any kind once a month, for ten 
years just gone ; and the notion that any man professing 
to be religious could misrepresent any one in any way, and 
then refuse to the injured party opportunity to explain 
and defend himself, had not occurred to me. In fact, 
I had not supposed such iniquity possible ; but then I was 
/unconverted,* and had only some crude intuitions of 
righteousness. Orthodoxy and grace work wonders in 
men. And so it was with me at seventeen, being in a ^ state 
of nature,' I denounced the editors, Mr. Brantly and 
all, as a set of cowardly scoundrels. ' ' 



MANNERS — READING. 1 5 



CHAPTER II. 

Manners — Reading — Acquaintance with William Martin — Confesses 
Christ — All-abounding hopes in regard to the Church — Enters school 
at West Middletown, Pa. — Acquaintance with R. R. Sloan. 

IN the school of toil, Dr. Pinkerton early learned 
endurance, self-reliance, and manly independence. 
His body, by his early labors in the open air, was 
toughened, and he became a man of great physical 
energy ; his spirit, too, was elevated by his daily 
communings with nature, which was ever to him not 
an insensate clod, but a living teacher with a divine 
commission. His brother William says of him : 

^^ His life at this time was cheerful and happy. He was 
always fond of fun, and would not let a good opportunity 
for it go unimproved. He was very popular, and impressed 
every one who approached him with his manly and cour- 
teous manner. Especially was this true as he approached 
manhood and began to realize the dignity of man^s nature. 
His reading consisted of such books as Weem^s Life of 
Washington, Pope's Essay on Man, and his Messiah, and 
translation of the Iliad, the Vicar of Wakefield, and the 
Scottish Chiefs,'*'' 

Dr. Pinkerton said of himself, that in these years 
he had little time to read and few books. He read 
the New Testament in the light of Wesley s Notes, 
and he soon stoutly and rather vehemently rejected 
the Calvinism of his father, with whom at times he 
2 



l6 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

discussed the questions of "fixed fate, free-will, and 
foreknowledge absolute." 

His religious impressions were rather favorable to 
Methodism ; so far favorable, indeed, that he tried to 
get religion at the mourner*s bench, and, though he 
failed to secure a satisfactory experience, there was, 
he said, in these efforts an intensity of feeling which 
left a serious impression on his mind that time never 
effaced. Calvinism, as set forth in the Assembly's 
Catechism y aroused within him the spirit of fierce 
opposition; Methodism, while it did not satisfy him, 
half won him, and left him more her friend than her 
foe. Yet the Presbyterian Church, the church of his 
fathers, was not without influence for good on his 
character. 

" The Scottish Church, both on himself and those 
With whom from childhood he grew up, had held 
The strong hand of her purity ; and still 
Had watched him with an unrelenting eye. 
This he remembered in his riper age 
With gratitude and reverential thoughts." — Wordsivorth, 

In the summer of 1830, he formed the acquaint- 
ance of a member of the Christian Church, William 
Martin by name, and they soon became warm friends. 
In their conversations with each other the great eter- 
nal question, which comes sooner or later to every 
human being, was anxiously discussed. Young Lewis 
soon accepted Martin's views of religion, and in a 
short time thereafter, at the close of a sermon 
preached by Alexander Campbell, he embraced the 
opportunity offered, made the good confession, and 
was immediately immersed, and rode home, a distance 



CONFESSES CHRIST. If 

of some miles, in his dripping clothes. From that 
time forward a mighty ardor burned in his soul which 
death itself could not quench. Henceforth Jesus of 
Nazareth was to be the Captain of his salvation — the 
light and inspiration of his life. He had no doubts, 
no fears. He eagerly embraced the plea of the 
Campbells against sectarianism, and the Ancient 
Gospel as preached by Walter Scott — **the simple 
story concerning Christ as the matter to be believed 
atoncey and the command, 'Repent and be baptized in 
the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins,' as 
comprehending the things to be done the same day 
or even the same hour of the night." This plea for 
Christian union and this gospel of the grace of God 
not only gained the assent of his mind, but seized 
his heart and his imagination, and he saw in vision 
sectarian divisions healed, sinners flocking home to 
God, and a united church marching on to a speedy 
and triumphant victory. His early dream was 
doomed to disappointment — a disappointment which 
shadowed his whole after life. In 1853, he thus 
gave vent to this feeling : " The brilliant, all- 
abounding hopes of early manhood in regard to 
the church have gone out into blackest night, 
and I now see, what was not so clear once, that 
Zion^s warfare is not yet ended." His faith in 
Christ, however, stood to the last, flaming high up in 
dark hours, and in the blackness of death mounting 
heavenward like a celestial flame, pointing to the 
land that is afar and to the King immortal in his 
beauty. In the last hours his mind wandered back 
to the bright morning of his Christian life, and he 
exclaimed : 



r8 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

*• How happy are they who their Saviour obey, 
And have laid up their treasure above ; 
Tongue can not express the sweet comfort and peace 
Of a soul in its earliest love." 

and then in a clear whisper he said, " // is true^ too'' 
No purer, no more ecstatic joy is granted to an 
earnest man in his earthly career than that which 
flows into his soul when first accepting Christ and 
forsaking his sins he enters into holy covenant with 
his God ; it is a memory, too, that comes like an 
angel of light to bless and strengthen him as he 
treads the verge of Jordan and enters into the strange 
experience of death. 

In the fall of 1830, he entered Pleasant Hill 
Seminary, near West Middletown, Pa., a school taught 
by Mrs. Jane McKeever, a sister of Alexander Camp- 
bell, and by Mr. James Sloan, a member, and sub- 
sequently a preacher, in the Presbyterian church. 
He remained here until the next summer, boarding 
with Mr. McKeever. R. R. Sloan, now of Cleve- 
land, Ohio, was his school-fellow and room-mate. 
Brother Sloan says " that he was full of life and glee, 
plain in dress and manners, guileless in nature, ge- 
nial in disposition, of a generous heart, and a great 
favorite among his school-fellows. He was a disciple 
of Christ, consistent in walk and conversation, and 
brought no reproach upon the cause he loved to 
honor." 

The two young men became ardent friends, and on 
separating they agreed to correspond. I have before 
me now three yellow letters written more than forty 
years ago by Dr. Pinkerton to his friend Sloan. They 
breathe a pure and ardent friendship, and a lofty 



ACQUAINTANCE WITH R. R. SLOAN. I9 

moral and religious spirit. Their great absorbing 
theme is Christ. In one of them he tells his young 
friend about a " muster " that he had attended, and 
follows it up with reflections on war, government, etc. 
In two of them there is some allusion to the *' beast" 
of Revelation. Robert, it seems, had been expounding 
the apocalypse to his friend Lewis, and particularly 
that part of it which refers to the *' beast." Lewis is 
somewhat bewildered, and confesses that he does not 
understand the prophecy ; but, having the utmost 
confidence in his friend Robert's superior wisdom 
and knowledge, he thinks that Robert must be right, 
and winds up by saying : **To your suggestion I have 
nothing to object, but conclude that it is most prob- 
ably correct. There is one tJiingy however, of which 
I feel assured, that God has made us to know that he 
will destroy with an everlasting destruction from his 
presence and the glory of his power all who obey 
not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. This, I 
say, is clearly taught in the Revelation made to John." 
In this quotation a marked characteristic of Dr. 
Pinkerton is manifest — viz., a most decided aversion 
to speculative and doubtful questions, and a tendency 
to seize upon all plain and clear revelations, and make 
them effectual unto life and godliness. 

Two of these letters to Sloan were written in 1831, 
and one in 1833. Those written in 1831, are evi- 
dently unconsciously written in the swelling strain 
of Mr. Campbell ; the one of 1833, is entirely different, 
and is clearly prophetic of the intense and picturesque 
style of Dr. Pinkerton's later productions. 



20 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER III. 

Removes to Butler County, Ohio — Married — Letters from A. Campbell — 
Scrap of autobiography — Enters the ministry. 

IN the fall of 183 1 he left West Virginia, and lo- 
ated in Trenton, Butler County, Ohio. Here 
he taught a school and studied medicine. Among 
his pupils was Miss Sarah Ball, a blue-eyed lassie, 
two years younger than her teacher. The reader 
can supply from his imagination, maybe from his 
experience, the romantic details of the love story. 
The young pedagogue soon became pupil ; and always 
bright and ardent, he was not slow to learn that 
tender lesson to which manly hearts in early days 
are so susceptible. He was married to this fair- 
faced, blue-eyed girl on the 19th of March, 1833 — 
he twenty-one, she nineteen ; and he lived with 
her in faithful holy love for forty-two years- — he a 
chivalrous Christian knight of a husband, she a mod- 
est, true, and gentle Christian wife. 

About this time he received the following letters 
from Mr. Campbell, which clearly show that even 
at this early period his mind had been turned toward 
the ministry, and that before he left West Virginia, 
and while yet a mere stripling, the eagle eye of 
Alexander Campbell had detected his intelligence, 
piety, and superior natural gifts. The reader will 
see, too, that Mr. Campbell had not been unobserv- 



LETTERS OF A. CAMPBELL. 21 

ant of young Lewis's peculiar power of ironical and 
satirical utterance : 

*^ Bethany, Va., May 28, 1833. 
^^To ail the disciples of Jesus Christ to whom these presents 
may come : 

^*May favor, mercy, and peace be multiplied through the 
knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ our Lord ! 

^^Dear brethren, I would introduce to your acquaintance 
and confidence as a fellow-disciple the bearer, our beloved 
Bro. Lewis L. Pinkerton, whom we highly esteem and 
love for the truth's sake. 

*^Bro. Pinkerton, while in Virginia, from the time of his 
baptism, which occurred in September, 1830, until his 
migration into Ohio, last year, was always esteemed and 
loved by all the disciples in the county to whom he was 
known and with whom he was associated in Christian 
fellowship; and from my own personal and intimate ac- 
quaintance with him since his conversion to the Lord, I 
have no hesitation in recommending him to the confidence 
and communion of all the brethren wherever his lot may 
be cast. 

** The opinion which 1 have formed of his intelligence 
and devotion to the Lord also authorizes me to say that I 
think he might be very usefully employed as an evangelist 
to proclaim the glad tidings to the many who are yet with- 
out God and without hope in the world. 

** In testimony of these statements, and in the hope that 
he will be cordially received by all the holy brethren, and 
that he will ever so walk as to retain the confidence now 
reposed in him, I have hereunto subscribed my name the 
day and year before written. A. Campbell. '^ 

** Dear Brother : 

*'On the preceding page you will find a letter of intro- 
duction and recommendation. I am truly glad to learn 



22 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

that you have felt it your duty to devote yourself to the 
work of the Lord, and to spend some time in announcing 
the faith once delivered to the saints. May the Lord 
stand by you and strengthen you that you may be a good 
soldier of Jesus Christ, our only King. I have often 
thought that it would be your duty to take this matter 
into consideration, and to prepare yourself for serving the 
Lord in the Gospel. I rejoice that you have felt the 
importance and necessity of the work, I would advise 
you to be instant on all proper occasions in preparing 
yourself, by laying up and hiding in your heart the law of 
the Lord. Have the first principles all well arranged in 
your mind, and the Scriptures which treat of -them very 
familiar. Avoid all appearance of crnsarioustuss, acri- 
iwfnyy or irony in your speaking to siimers. Persuade, 
beseech, entreat with {lU long-suffering and gravity, and 
strive to show yourself a workman who needs not to be 
ashamed, rightly diWding the word of truth. 

*'• Sister Campbell and my family join with me in all 
Christian regards and affection for you, and may the good 
Lord preser\e you to the everlasting kingdom. 

'* Yours, in the good hope, A. Campbell." 

In a letter to Elder John Rogers, published in the 
Christian Age of April 20th. 1S54, I find the follow- 
ing scrap of autobiography from Dr. Pinkerton, and 
as it relates especially to the period of his life which 
now occupies our attention, I here insert it: 

^•In order to place myself prop)erly before you, and, 
consequently, the reflections, strictures, reviews, etc., 
which* it is my purpose to submit to yoiu- consideration, I 
have felt that a brief account of myself — how I came to 
be what I am, and in my present position, would be nec- 
essar)-. I hope you will concur with me in this ; for I 



STUDIES MEDICINE. 23 

have ever felt reluctant to obtrude upon any one my own 
personal or private history. I would not in the present 
instance, could it be avoided. 

''I was baptized during the autumn of 1830, and com- 
menced my Christian career in Western Virginia. The 
dogma of reprobation, which I had learned first in the 
Assembly's Shorted' Catechisvt, and the inscrutable mys- 
teries of conversion, mider the Methodist arrangements, 
had made me a universal skeptic ; or, perhaps, a skep- 
tical universalist would more nearly express my posi- 
tion. 

^* The gospel, as taught by Mr. Campbell and his co-oper- 
ants, was to me like light breaking upon the grave — it was, 
indeed, like a voice from God out of heaven. The gos- 
pel is certain great facts concerning Jesus of Nazareth, to 
be believed with all the heart, confessed with the mouth, 
and obeyed with penitence. * You have not all obeyed the 
gospel.'^ Never shall I cease to be moved by the recol- 
lection of the rapt wonderment in which, for months, \ 
meditated upon this wonderful * discovery. ' The New 
Testament, then, may be read by a sinner^ believed and 
obeyed for salvation. Astounding was this, at that day, 
not only to me, but to many thousands besides. The old 
religious parties raved — misrepresented, to use no harsher 
term. But of this hereafter. 

^•Late in the autumn of 1831, 1 left Virginia and prose- 
cuted the study of medicine in Butler County, Ohio, for 
the space of four years, teaching occasionally, as the state 
of my finances demanded. In 1835,1 commenced the 
practice of medicine about thirty miles north of Cincin- 
nati. In August, 1836, I removed to Carthage, within 
six miles of the Queen City. Our brother Scott resided 
then in Carthage, and ruled a happy and prosperous con- 
gregation ; now, alas ! scattered for the most part to the 
four winds of heaven. In the meantime I had married, 
and when I began my professional career in 1835, ^^^ be- 
3 



24 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

hind with the world five or six hundred dollars. Being 
prepared, however, I took my place in Carthage free from 
debt. From November, 1831, till August, 1836, I had 
not lived in communion with any church. I can give no 
explanation of this, not knowing myself how or why i 
thus acted. I was known as a professor of religion among 
my young associates, no one of whom ever asked me to a 
ball, dancing party, or bar. I attended the religious 
meetings in my neighborhood, and, when asked to do so, 
took part in the exercises. I lived most of my time in a 
pious family, and took part in the fireside devotions. This 
may explain, in part, my preservation from many of the 
follies of youth, for I do not know that I could designate 
any five years of my life to which I might more safely, 
challenge close scrutiny than the five years passed in But- 
ler County, Ohio. This will, probably, be read by citi- 
zens of that county, and I am yet willing for the world to 
hear whatever can be said against my proceedings there as 
gentleman or Christian. Still, it was hazarding too much 
thus to live far from the communion of ^the brethren,' 
nor would I be forward to commend my course to the 
young as worthy of imitation. As before intimated, I 
had no design in thus acting. * There is a destiny that 
shapes our ends.' 

'^ From the year 1836 till 1843, i^'^tich religious excitement 
prevailed among our brethren in western Ohio, eastern 
Indiana, and generally throughout Kentucky. I had in- 
tended to devote a portion of my life to the proclamation 
of the gospel, and, after my union with the church in 
Carthage, was accustomed to speak in social meetings. 
My brethren represented to me that it was my duty to 
abandon my profession and to enter the field as an evan- 
gelist. The struggle was an arduous one, I am free to 
own. I had gathered up a fine medical library, had 
gained a very desirable practice, and was fond of my 
chosen profession. I thought myself in sight of the goal 



COMMENCES PREACHING. 2$ 

to which I had been pressing through six wearisome years, 
and had many reasons to decline the call to become a 
wandering preacher of a gospel much spoken against.- . I 
desired only a postponement of the call, not its final with- 
drawal. But I became unhappy, and my conscience was 
disquieted. I at length compromised with conscience by 
making a sort of burnt-offering of my professional lum- 
ber, and quietly and privately determining to preach for a 
term of five years, taking these five years out of the 
palmiest portion of my life. Accordingly, in May, 1838, 
in the twenty-seventh year of my age, I began to preach. 
'^I must close, for the present, these personal reminis- 
cences. They are not written with the faintest idea of in- 
teresting, the public, but as a necessary introduction to the 
matters to be embodied in these communications. 
^^I am, dear brother, yours faithfully, 

^^L. L. PiNKERTON." 

In his next letter he abruptly breaks off the pro- 
posed sketch of his life, and proceeds, with his ''re- 
views and strictures." 



26 LIFE OF L. I.. riXKERTON. 



CHAPTER IV. 

He meets Elder John Taife — Extract from a letter — Visits Kentucky — 
Meets Wm. Morton and John T. Johnson — Letter from Johnson — 
Dr. Pinkerton's success as an evangelist. 

Al^OUT this time, he first met Elder John Taffe, 
for whom he ever after cherished a most 
ardent friendship, ever esteeming- him a most truth- 
ful, pure-hearted, courageous Christian gentleman. 
Bro. Tafte, in a letter to me, says : 

•'I became acquainted with Dr. L. L. Pinkerton at 
Wilmington, Clinton County, Oiiio, in tlie summer of 
1S38. We held a very pleasant meeting there of several 
days, and we shortly after held another meeting at the 
Antioch church, five miles south-east of Wilmington, 
where I had been immersed in July, 1S3S, and had taken 
membership. Dr. Pinkerton had a short time before that 
given up the practice of medicine, in which he had been 
very successful, and had given himself to the ministry of 
the word of God. He was at that early period of his 
ministry a ready, fine speaker, a young man of fine intelli- 
gence, entirely transparent, and wholly without guile, a 
most genial, pleasant companion, sincere, faithful, and 
true to his convictions. As a speaker and Christian gen- 
tleman, he won the hearts of all who heard him in the 
pulpit or met him in the social circle. I received him at 
once to my confidence, and gave him a very warm place 
in my affections. My love and esteem for him ever in- 



MOVES TO KE-NTUCKY. 2/ 

creased with our increasing years and acquaintance; as 
his true- and beautiful life^ his genial nature, his faithful 
and valuable teaching were brought more and more fully 
before me j and as I learned more and more of the charm 
of his society, the warmth of his friendship, his ardent 
love both to God and man, his enlarged benevolence and 
mflexible loyalty to truth, to principle, to every thing that 
honors God, and purifies, elevates, ennobles, benefits, 
blesses, and beatifies man. He was a Christian philan- 
thropist of the truest mold." 

In the year 1838 he made his first trip to Ken- 
tucky and held a very successful meeting at Bru- 
nerstown (now Jeffersontown), about twelve miles 
from Louisville. He won the hearts of the Ken- 
tucky people, and they fairly won his heart. In a 
few weeks after this meeting he removed to Ken- 
tucky, and went first to Mr. Snyder's, in Oldham 
County, with whom his little family boarded while he 
spent the time evangelizing with brethren William 
Morton and John T. Johnson, two men he most ten- 
derly loved in life, and whose memory he kept fresh 
and green to the grave. 

In a short time he removed his family to Mr. 
Warnock's, near Middletown, where they remained 
for several months while he continued in the field as 
an evangelist. In a letter to the Millennial Har- 
binger, dated February 7, 1839, giving an account 
of a meeting at Mt. Vernon, Ky., Elder Johnson 
.says : 

'^Brother L. L. Pinkerton, whom you know, was with 
me all the time. We obtained six. All were worthy per- 
sons. I must say that Bro. Pinkerton fills my eye ; he is 



28 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

destined to do much good if he lives. I could sit and - 
listen to him all the time. I bless the Lord that we have 
such young men in the ranks to fill the places of older 
men who are growing out of date. ' ' 

John T. Johnson, though a lowly Christian, had 
an ardent and soldierly spirit which gave his min- 
istry a marked character. His exhortations were 
buHe-calls to duty. To such a man Dr. Pinkerton 
was irresistible, and between the tw^o a deathless 
friendship was formed. No wonder the gallant old 
soldier says: ''Brother Pinkerton fills my eye. I 
could sit and listen to him all the time." Yes, dear 
old man, he was worthy your quaint, homely tribute, 
for he was not only eloquent and learned, but like 
yourself brave, generous, pure, ardent. A mean 
man, or even a cold or timid one, could not under- 
stand Dr. Pinkerton. John T. Johnson was neither 
mean, nor cold, nor timid. 

He remained in Kentucky till late in the spring 
of 1839, ^^^d then returned to Carthage, O., where 
his family spent the summer and autumn, during 
which time he was preaching at diflerent points in 
Ohio and Indiana, part of the time in company with 
the celebrated John O'Kane and Love H. Jamison. 

While living in Ohio, three children were born 
into his family — two girls and a boy. The little 
girls died in infancy— the eldest, Oct. 9, 1835, aged 
almost a year; and the next July 22, 1837, aged 
about eighteen months. This last death left father 
and mother desolate and childless. On the 19th of 
August, 1838, their eldest son, William White Pink- 
erton, was born. 



SETTLES IN KENTUCKY. 29 

In December, 1839, Dr. Pinkerton moved perma- 
nently to Kentucky, and settled at Brunerstown. 
Here he entered into partnership with Dr. Seaton, 
intending to preach the gospel as well as to prac- 
tice medicine, but finding that he could not pros- 
ecute both professions successfully, in a few months 
he again gave up the practice of medicine, and 
betook himself earnestly to preaching, chiefly in 
protracted meetings. John T. Johnson and Wil-" 
Ham Morton were still his principal co-laborers in 
the evangelical field, and he was sometimes a 
co-worker with Walter Scott and John A. Gano. 
Bro. Johnson, in his letters to the Harbinger, gives 
accounts of meetings in which Dr. Pinkerton took 
part, held at Georgetown, Nicholasville, Providence, 
Shelbyville, Chenoweth's Run, and Middletown — 
all fruitful in accessions to the church. Dr. P., in 
the first vol. of Independent Montlily, page 253, makes 
the following brief mention of labors in protracted 
meetings : 

'^From the beginning of the year 1836, till about the 
close of the year 1842, was a season of great evangelical 
effort and of corresponding success with the reformers of 
Kentucky. Converts were gathered by thousands. The 
writer entered the work early in the year 1838, and from 
that time till the close of 1841, he was seldom disengaged 
from the work of the protracted meeting. At the meet- 
ings attended by him as subordinate or principal laborer, 
several thousands, it is believed, were immersed. No 
record was kept, and many of the meetings were never re- 
ported. We recall but three instances in which we made 
any report.*' 

He was not a revivalist, but he was a most 



30 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

earnest, eloquent, devoted and successful evangelist. 
Finesse and clap-trap were disgusting to him, and 
the success that attended his ministry was simply 
the success of the truth preached by an able and 
honest man. 



REMOVES TO NEW UNION. 3 1 



CHAPTER V. 

Removes to New Union, Woodford County, Ky. — Meets James Ware 
Parrish — Removes to Lexington — His ministry in Lexington — 
Trouble in the church— Resignation. 

IN the summer of 1840 he received and accepted a 
call from the New Union Church, in Woodford 
County, to become their evangelist — the arrange- 
ment being that he was to preach a part of the time 
for the church, and spend part of his time in holding 
protracted meetings at various points. 

On the Saturday before the .third Lord's day in 
July, 1840, he enters upon his duties at New Union. 
The day is fair and bright ; nature is full-robed and 
in her glory ; the country folks are out in number, 
and all signs seem propitious to the young preacher, 
twenty-eight years old, who enters the pulpit and 
commences his work as country pastor. One can 
well believe that such a man, on such an occasion, 
and with such a message of Divine love as he bore 
to his fellows, must have preached most impress- 
ively and tenderly. 

There sits in the audience a young man of twenty- 
five summers — James Ware Parrish. His form is 
erect and slender, his face open and intelligent, his 
bearing that of a sincere and accomplished gentle- 
man. But a little while since he buried a fair young 
wife, the love of his early days, and his sensitive 



32 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

spirit is sorely chastened. He has long been strug- 
gling with doubt, but to-day his decision is reached, 
and he is sufficiently strong in faith to say — 

" I can but perish if I go, 
I am resolved to try." 

The sermon is finished, and as the congregation 
sing he and his sister Susan come forward to con- 
fess the ever-blessed name of Christ. The next 
day they are immersed by Dr. Pinkerton. 

I have been thus particular in introducing the 
name of James Ware Parrish into this book, because 
he and Dr. Pinkerton, from this time to the close 
of Parrish's earthly life, were warm friends, and for 
a period of twelve years were most intimately asso- 
ciated in the Midway Church, and in the work of 
the Orphan School. 

That my readers may see with what grace and 
power Dr. Pinkerton attracted earnest souls to him, 
I quote a paragraph from an unpublished autobiog- 
raphy of Parrish. He says, speaking of the time at 
which he united with the church : 

^^I saw Bro. Pinkerton once before during the life of 
my wife, and as soon as I heard him I saw that he had 
an order of mind that would not only comprehend fully 
my difficulty, and give me the credit of honesty and can- 
dor — something all preachers can not do^ — but could per- 
haps lead me away from my fears." 

He immediately sought an interview with Dr. P., 
but being taken sick he could not enjoy the conver- 
sation which he so much coveted. He did not see 
the Doctor again until this memorable day on which 
he united with the church. 



CALLED TO LEXINGTON. 33 

Dr. Piiikerton's ministry at New Union was 
greatly blessed. The church was edified and 
strengthened. Bro. Parrish speaks of the harmony, 
the devotion, zeal, and love of the church in terms 
that appear extravagant. 

He remained at New Union until October, 1841, 
at which tim.e he moved to Lexington and entered 
upon his duties as pastor of the church in this city. 

When he came to Lexington, the Disciples were 
meeting in a dingy brick building on Hill Street, 
near Mill. The building was erected by a congre- 
gation of Christians called /* New Lights," presided 
over by that eminent and devoted man of God, Bar- 
ton W. Stone. Upon the union of the ** Chris- 
tians" and ''Disciples" in 1832, the meeting-house 
of the Christians became the place of worship for 
the united congregations. 

As it is not my purrpose to write a general history 
of the Reformation in Kentucky, I must omit the 
record of most interesting matter concerning the or- 
ganization, the faith, and vicissitudes of this church, 
both before and after Dr. Pinkerton's ministry. 

He engaged to preach for the church on three 
Sundays of every month for six hundred and fifty 
dollars per annum. This arrangement was con- 
tinued for more than two years, when he voluntarily 
severed his official relations with the congregation. 

'' The church at this time/* he says, in a fragment 
of manuscript never published, ** contained some 
blessed men and women. Some of these have gone 
home — a few remain. There were not enough of 
this class, however, to give character to the com- 
munity, and taken altogether there was much igno- 



34 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

ranee and disorder in the church." He says : " I do 
not propose to magnify my efforts to put a new face 
on the affair. / did what I could. During my con- 
nection with the congregation, the meeting-house on 
Main Street was built and occupied, and new hearers 
from all classes of the community began to appear." 
But the devil came into the new house with the con- 
gregation, and some one with genuine zeal for a di- 
vine order of things got into the house and tore off 
some bits of tin that had been tacked on a few seats 
by persons who wished their families to sit together, 
and ripped to pieces some upholstering that had been 
done. 

*' I ventured," says Dr. Pinkerton, *' to rebuke the 
low-bred vandalism of the deed, and some dozen or 
more of the more zealous and godly of the disciples 
' went for me.' In utter hopelessness, and in ineffa- 
ble disgust, I resigned without knowing where I was 
to lay my head ; for I was absolutely without one dol- 
lar. I resigned for the sake of my own soul, not be- 
cause I could not have sustained myself in the face 
of all opposition, and that, too, without playing the 
demagogue." His membership remained in the con- 
gregation till the spring of 1845. 



LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 35 



CHAPTER VI. 

Letter to his wife. 

IMMEDIATELY upon giving up his place in 
Lexington, he started out to evangelize and to 
raise funds for Bacon College. The following letter 
reveals something both of his inner and outer life at 
this time. He has left his wife with three little 
children, and pushed out into the field to serve his 
Master and win souls as jewels for that Master's 
crown. It is a dark winter night, and his heart turns 
homeward to the good wife and the little bairns, and 
thus he writes : 

'* Paris, Ky., February 6, 1844. 
*^ My Dear Sarah : 

*' I regret to say to you that I will not be at home till 
next week, perhaps not until Thursday. Bro. Johnson 
and I have determined to visit Cane Ridge, a church 
about eight miles distant from this place, before we return 
to our homes. This Cane Ridge is the place where the 
great revival occurred under old Father Stone, about the 
year 1802. 

^' Not much has been achieved here in the conversion of 
sinners, about twenty have been added. I'he weather and 
streets have been dreadful ; besides, the excitement of tem- 
perance lectures, weddings, parties, etc., have operated 
against the interests of our meeting. 

*' Nor have we done great things for the college. From 
the experiments I have made, I am fully persuaded that 



36 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

all benevolent enterprises are to be sustained by the poor, 
or by those in moderate circumstances. As a general rule, 
the very rich will do nothing. I begin to understand the 
teaching of our Saviour on the subject of riches : ' How 
hardly ' (with what difficulty) ' shall they that have 
riches enter into the kingdom of God. It is easier for a 
camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich 
man to enter into the kingdom of God.' I do most con- 
scientiously opine that very few rich men will enter into 
the ^rest that remains for the people of God.' ' They 
that will be rich,' says Paul. ^ fall into a snare and //la/iy 
hurtful and foolish lusts, which drown men in destruction 
and perdition.' I feel disposed to thank God that I am 
not rich. For the sake of others, I could desire a little 
more of this world's goods; but I do trust in my Re- 
deemer that I shall never seriously want while employed 
in his work. He abides faithful forever. 

^^ I had prepared myself this evening for coming home, 
and was about starting to the stage-office, but was pre- 
vailed upon to remain. All the arguments in the case 
would not have proved successful could I have seen you 
without expense ; and indeed, my dear, e two dollars 
would not have stopped me a moment, had I not remem- 
bered my debts. When shall I be out of debt ? Do you 
say never ? Well, now, I have a great mind to make you 
my banker, and let you try your hand at financial matters. 
If I give you all the money I receive, will you keep clear 
of debt and support the family ? 

^^ 'T is a fearful night ! The north wind howls loudly as 
it dashes in fitful gusts against my window, and reminds 
ne of the dread majesty of Almighty God, ' who makes 
the dark cloud his pavilion and walks upon the wings of 
the wmd.' May He commiserate the condition of the 
suffering poor I It is now late, and I shall very soon lie 
down to slumber upon a bed of down, with the happy 
assurance that my wife and little ones are also protected 



LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 37 

and comfortable. But, alas ! how many are to-night shiv- 
mng in huts, amid the gloom of hopeless poverty. Pity 
tliem, thou ^Father of Mercies/ and may thy people 
remember the example of Him who was always the friend 
of the poor — ' who went about doing good ' ! 

*^ While riches are a curse, abject poverty is a heavy mis- 
fortune ; hence the wisdom of a prayer recorded some- 
where in the writings of Solomon : ^ Give me neither 
poverty nor riches.' My dear, I know I need not exhort 
you to be liberal to the poor. If they call upon you dur- 
ing this severe weather, divide our little with them, turn 
none empty away, and God will bless you. Teach our 
son to pity the poor. I would rather he should be liberal 
than rich.. Rich 1 I hate the word. He is a noble-hearted 
little fellow. 

*' I deplore more and more deeply my frequent absence 
from you and our children. But it is my immovable 
determination ere long to bring my travels to a close. I 
can not endure this constant separation from my family. 
Bear a little longer, and we shall enjoy the consciousness 
of having performed our duty, and in life's closing hour 
will be cheered with the prospect of ' treasure in heaven.' 

^' But I must close. I suppose you and your little charge 
are embraced in the arms of sleep at this moment. May 
that eye that never slumbers nor sleeps watch over you for 
good ! Teach our son to love his sister, and endeavor to 
cultivate the kinder feelings of Virginia. Kiss my little 
Burnett. Yours, most faithfully and affectionately, 

'' L. L. PlNKERTON." 

His daughter Virginia, to whom he alludes in this 
letter, was born in Fayette County, December 4, 
1840, and Burnett J., in Lexington, April 12, 1843 



38 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Settles at Midway — The Church at Midway — The Baconian Institute — 
The Orphan school — The *•' Christian Mirror." 

IN the fall of 1844, he moved to Midway, Wood- 
ford County, a village on the Lexington and 
Frankfort Railroad, about fifteen miles from Lexing- 
ton. The country around Midway is beautiful and 
fertile, and the population in 1844 was made up of 
well-to-do farmers and their slaves, with a fair pro- 
portion of non-slaveholding whites, poorer and less 
powerful than the slaveholders. The community was 
peculiarly a Kentucky one — marked by characteristic 
virtues and vices. 

The church at Midway was organized in the sum- 
mer of 1844, and the meeting-house was formally 
opened for service on Christmas day of that year. 
Dr. Pinkerton preached the opening sermon. He 
had settled permanently in the community and en- 
tered at once upon the zealous discharge of his duties 
as pastor and preacher — a work that he prosecuted 
with unwearied devotion for sixteen years. The 
church was not able to give him a full support, and as 
Paul, under similar circumstances, turned his atten- 
tion to tent-making, so Dr. Pinkerton supplemented 
by school teaching the meager salary received from 
the church. On the sixth day of April, 1845, he 
opened a female school (Baconian Institute) in the 



FEMALE ORPHAN SCHOOL. 39 

church building. During the following summer he 
built a commodious school-room and boarding-house, 
and occupied them in the fall. How successful he 
was as a teacher, the loving memory of the accom- 
plished women whom he educated bears most grate- 
ful witness. 

This school, built at his own expense and carried 
on by his most self-denying labor, was a great bene- 
faction to the whole surrounding country. It must 
not be confounded, however, with the Female Orphan 
School. The Baconian Institute was a private enter- 
prise. The Female Orphan School was designed as 
a public charity. 

The Female Orphan School. — Seated in the 
pulpit at Old Round Top Church, in Madison County, 
Ky., Dr. Pinkerton's eyes rested on the frail form 
and sightless eyes of a little blind girl — and then and 
there Christ inspired his heart to do something for 
the poor and friendless ; and the Female Orphan 
School rose before him as a vision of prophecy — as 
a call of God. It was strikingly characteristic of Dr. 
Pinkerton that the sight of human distress awakened 
in him, not simply a passing sigh of pity, but an 
ahiding practical purpose to do what he could to 
bring relief and comfort to all the weary and the 
heavy laden. The closing passage of the twenty-fifth 
chapter of Matthew — the startling sentences of the 
Son of God — rang evermore in his heart and con- 
science. He believed, too, that whatever others might 
do, he could do nothing better for his brethren in Ken- 
tucky, than to enlist them in works of practical be- 
nevolence ; that by this means he would do them more 
;^\ood, and bring them nearer to God, than by all the 

4 



40 



LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



debates and controversies he might hold in theii 
behalf with Presbyterians and Methodists, or even 
infidels. 

In the year 1845, VN-hile in the meeting-house 
at Midway, with James Ware Parrish, he first pro- 
posed the scheme of the orphan school to that gener- 
ous man, who seized it with the utmost avidity, and 
before they left the house the purpose was fixed in 
the hearts of both to begin the work at once, and by 
God's blessing to prosecute it to a successful issue. 
In the same year the charter was secured from the 
Kentucky Legislature, chiefly through the agency of 
that Christian gentleman, Major George W. Williams, 
of Bourbon County, then a member of the Kentucky 
Senate, than whom no nobler man ever filled a place 
in a legislative body. 

In October, 1849, ^^^^ untiring labors by Dr. 
Pinkerton, J. W. Parrish, and J. T. Johnson, the 
school was opened in a commodious building and 
twenty little orphans there found a home. It may be 
of interest to state that the property of the institu- 
tion now amounts to $155,000, and that the number 
of pupils in attendance during the last session was 
eighty-six, thirty-eight of whom were beneficiaries 
and the remainder were supported at an average cost 
of $43.31 per pupil, exclusive of books and clothing. 

In the year 1848, Dr. Pinkerton edited and pub- 
lished a monthly magazine called the Christian 
Mirror, Its pages aflford ample illustration of the 
genius and culture, as well as of the devoted piety, 
of its edicor. In the Milleyinial Harbinger oi K^xWy 
1848, Mr. Campbell alluded to the Ckristia?i Mirror 
as a *' new Star in the West of much brilliancy." 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 4I 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Extracts from a memorial sermon preached by Dr. Pinkerton, January 
ist, 1854, Midway, Ky. — Nine years' ministry. 

THE following passages, taken from an unpub- 
lished address delivered by Dr. Pinkerton, 
January ist, 1854, give very interesting information 
concerning the organization of the church, and the 
first nine years of his ministry in Midway. I regret 
that I can not give the whole address. In richness 
of thought and beauty of diction it surpasses many 
productions which have found permanent place in 
American literature : 

" Thou washest away the things that grow out of the dust of the earth, 
and thou destroyest the hopes of man." — Job xiv : 19. 

'^ We meet this morning, my neighbors and brethren, 
under blissful circumstances. We exchange salutations 
with increased fervor since we have made with safety 
another stage in the journey of life. Calling to mind the 
former times, we find in the retrospect reasons for increased 
gratitude to God our Father, and a more ardent good -will 
to man. 

^' We have, indeed, much cause for devout happiness in 
contemplating the circumstances of our community. We 
are not suffering from any grievous epidemic ; there are in 
our midst no i)oor unprovided for. Our servants clothed 
and fed and sheltered and warmed, particii)ate fiilly in the 
warm greetings and jubilant gladness that mark with us the 



42 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

beginning of the year. To the eye of faith, this universal 
gladness may feebly foreshadow that great celebration 
which shall signalize the close of the last year, and mark 
the entrance of the redeemed into everlasting life — an 
event, memorable thenceforth throughout eternity. 

^Vl have thought to spend a few moments in the past — 
the past of the great world — the past of our little church, 
and to gather thence what I may of instruction, of encour- 
agement, and of hope. 

^'The mysterious and silent past, that has engulfed the 
great and small — taken down into its bosom the mightiest 
empires, and the little hopes that warmed and gladdened 
the hearts of little children, is yet made to yield up its 
treasures. Memory and faith save to us much that we 
have not. Guided by these along the dim halls and 
through the quiet chambers of the past, that which is not 
becomes to the soul a great and cherished reality. We hear 
again voices long hushed in death, and once more see 
in beauty loved forms long ago moldered into dust. 
Memory dwells in the past, hope works her enchantments 
in the future. The first paints in shade, the last dips her 
pencil only in the brightest colors. We may recall the 
pleasantest passages in our own lives, or dwell for a season 
among ^ the tombs of dead empires,' and in either case, 
all is seen in heavy shade. A sepulchral gloom broods 
over all that is gone, whether it be our own experiences, 
the treasure of memory, or the long reaches of past time, 
made ours by faith. The inspirations of hope are not 
more to be coveted than the chastenings of memory. The 
heart-saddenings that come with thoughts of the past, are 
wisely appointed, and have for us deep meanings and 
highest admonishment, if we will but listen to their teach- 
ings. The mournful utterances of the past are answered 
by the awakened heart, with groanings unutterable for 
immortality; our warm affections, sorrowfully clinging to 
what is not, can have no meaning, if there be not a bliss- 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 43 

ful eternity for the pure in heart— if those who have truly 
loved on earth are not to meet in heaven. ... I 
must here abruptly leave this subject, to be resumed 
another day, and under different circumstances. Touching 
the future of Christianity we are full of hope. These hopes 
may be vain. The general church may refuse to adjust 
itself — its philosophies, its spirit— to the sjDirit of the age, 
in which event superstition and bald ijifidelity will divide 
the nations of Europe and of our own continent. 

"- 1 have yet to consider a moment the past of our little 
community. The record informs me that ' the church of 
Christ in Midway ' was organized on Saturday before the 
third Lord's day in July, 1844. The same record says 
that on the last Lord's day in December of the same year, 
the church first met in this house, and that the present 
speaker 'delivered a discourse on the name Christian, our 
reasons for taking this Jianie, and rejecting all others not 
appropriated to the people of God in the sacred Scrip- 
tures.' Since then, a little more than nine years have 
passed — nine years of joys and sorrows, of defeats and 
triumphs, of hopes and fears. Life has been to most of 
us, what it was to the great Bard of Nature : 

** * Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between, 
Some gleams of sunshine mid renewing storms.' 

Yet, by the divine favor, life has been a blessing to us — 
we humbly hope a blessing to others ; and we are here to- 
day, changed, it is true — changed in countenance, changed 
in feeling, but not in purpose. We are here — but not all ; 
some have left us for fairer worlds on high, and we give to 
them — absent but not forgotten; fallen but not lost; mold- 
ered but still loved — our blessed dead — we give to them 
our first thought in this brief retrospect. 

** ' The departed ! tlie departed ! they visit us in dreams, 

Anl they glide across our memories like shadows over streams, 



44 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

But where the cheerful lights of home, in constant luster burn, 

The departed, the departed, can never more return. 

I sometimes dream their pleasant smiles 

Still on me sweetly fall. 

Their tones of love 1 faintly hear 

My name in sadness c dl. 

I know that they are happy 

With their angel plumage on, 

But my heart is very desolate 

To think that they are gone.' 

'^ We owe it to our dead and to ourselves to cherish tlieir 
memories. With us, thank heaven, the ripest of the ears 
were generally gathered, and thoughts of them amid the 
struggles of life come like a holy providence to encourage 
and to animate ; while they beckon us onward and upward 
to the fields of paradise. 

*' I find on the general record of the church 311 names, 
representing the whole number of white persons who have 
been associated with us since our organization. The 
original church consisted of thirty-two ; so that the ad- 
ditions to the church during nine years, number two hun- 
dred and seventy-nine. There being no history of our 
proceedings for the year 1852 on the record, and the 
reports of the officers for the year 1853 not being yet 
entered, I am not able to give the exact statistics of our 
congregation. The annual records show : 

Immersions .• ^54 

United by letter Z(i 

Total . 240 

Dismissed by letter 23 

Excluded 10 

Died 17 

Total 50 

^'This is but an approximation to the truth in the case, 
especially in regard to the number dismissed by letter; 
more than twice the number reported having been so 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 45 

dismissed. Our present number is one hundred and sixty- 
eight. During the present year, two have been excluded 
and one has died. The years 1845 ^^^^ 1^49 were the 
seasons of our greatest prosperity— 185 1 the period of our 
greatest depression. Of the twelve or fourteen excluded 
several have returned to the church. 

''When we think of the unpromising circumstances under 
which we ' set up our banner/ we can not but take heart, 
and trusting in him who has never forsaken us, throw our- 
selves hopefully upon the future. But the work of the 
church just recorded is, indeed, but a meager representa- 
tion of the results of our organization. Within the i^eriod 
of our church's history a female academy has been built 
and carried into successful operation. Filled by my suc- 
cessor to its utmost capacity, after nine years progress it 
shows no marks of decline. True, indeed, Baconian Insti- 
tute was from the beginning, and still is, a private or indi- 
vidual enterprise ; but it was the encouragement given by 
this church that enabled it to struggle successfully in its 
infancy against fearful difficulties, and it is to that generous 
aid we are indebted this day for the privilege of speaking 
to the happy classes receiving the lessons of Brother James 
Fall. 

''The Orphan School is a chartered institution, and the 
property of our brotherhood in Kentucky. But had not 
this church — its whole membership, male and female — 
smiled upon the enterprise ; had not some of her members 
made large sacrifices in time and money, it would not have 
been — we should not have been able this day to greet these 
forty-nine children of misfortune here, 'at home,' and 
enjoying opportunities of intellectual and religious culture. 

"Believing that our colored brethren would enjoy greater 
prosperity and be happier in a separate organization than 
with us, a comfortable meeting-house was built for them, 
and for nearly two years they have carried on their own 
affairs, with occasional assistance from the officers of this 



46 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

congregation. I have preached for them as often as I 
considered it profitable to them. Two of their number 
read and speak well — A. Campbell and George Williams. 
They have been able this year to raise sixty dollars 'to 
pay their preacher.' All things considered, ten thousand 
times as much as is given by some white congregations for 
similar purposes. Twenty-five have been added during 
the past year, two have died, and one has been excluded. 
The present number of members is eighty-nine. I take it 
for granted that you all feel an interest in the welfare of 
our African church, and will hear with gratitude of her 
prosperity. 

"It is full time to close this address, and yet, tedious as 
I have been, your attention is craved a moment still. The 
same men have been co7iti?iued in office duriiig the whole 
period of the churcli s existence. No serious misunder- 
standing, no crippling disagreement, has ever occurred 
among these officers, on any question whatever, from the 
first day of their co-operation till this hour. Nor has any 
very serious and distracting feud arisen among the members. 
The church has generally, acquiesced in tne action of her 
rulers, without voting and debating everlastingly upon every 
matter that could have two sides. We quote the past and 
the present in vindication of the wisdom of your course in 
this respect. 

*' What, beloved brethren, will our future be? Dare we in- 
quire? From the past goodness of God to us, may we not 
hope that our usefulness is but begun ? If from such feeble 
beginnings, God has by us wrought out sfich results, what 
might we not accomplish by his aid during the years yet 
to come ? Shall our future be what our past has been ? 
In some respects it doubtless will. It is with the deepest 
satisfaction, I am enabled to say, that during my connec- 
tion with you, now extending through nine years, no per- 
manent alienation of feeling has taken place between my- 
self and any member of this congregation. Towards 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 4/ 

every member of the church I am permitted to exercise 
the warmest paternal feeling, and to believe that the feel- 
ing is fully reciprocated. May it ever be thus ! And 
yet there's nothing sure but heaven. But we will not antic- 
ipate. * Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.' And we 
hope, by the divine grace, to be able to meet whatever 
the future may have in store for us. In the language of 
the German poet, we would say — 

" * Future ills I let alone, 
Trouble never borrow, 
Every day has but its own ; 
Not another's sorrow.* 

*' Knowing in whom we have believed, and that he is able 
to keep that which we have committed to him, let us, my 
brethren, go forth with increased ardor to the great battle 
of life, *Our days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle,' 
and what we would do must be undertaken quickly. This, 
we may presume, is the last year of some of our family. To 
the ceaseless energies of time we can offer no resistance — 
we must pass away : 

** * Not this our Eden home, 
, Rocked by the blast, 
Fading so fast, 

Dark though the stormy hours 
Fleeting and short, 
Bark of our pilgrimage 
Soon is at port.' 

'*That we may all meet in heaven is my most earnest 
prayer." 

['* Note. — Preachers who have assisted the church in 
Midway— C. J. Smith, J. T. Johnson, R. C. Ricketts, 
P. S. Fall, A. Kendrick, J. Challen, B. F. Hall, John 
Rogers, jun., Jacob Creath, sen. 

*' Several others besides our own members, which now 
include Brother Ricketts, have incidentally co-operated 
with us in word and teaching."] 
5 



48 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Letter from John T. Johnson — " Christian Age " — Labors in Versailles, Mt. 
Sterhng, and Paris, Ky. — Orphan school building burned — Lecture — 
Slavery. 

THE following letter from John T. Johnson to Mr. 
Campbell is at once a truthful testimony concern- 
ing Dr. Pinkerton's arduous labors in Midway, and a 
generous tribute from a noble co-worker to his ex- 
alted character and commanding ability : 

^^ Midway, June 13, 1849. 

" Brother Campbell : — Since my return from the South I 
have limited my labors to the congregation at home, until the 
last ten days, during which time I have been laboring here 
with brother Dr.Pinkerton, who is still the same ardent, able, 
efficient, and devoted proclaimer and defender of the faith, 
as formerly, although burdened by one of the best and most 
flourishing female schools of the West. I was particularly 
gratified in witnessing his vast and increasing influence in 
his own community. 

^'The meeting here was rather providential than by any 
human design. Our calculations were not sanguine, and 
there were some unfavorable indications ; but the church, 
(one of the best disciplined in Kentucky, composed of 
members of deep-toned piety; presided over by elders 
J.Ware Parrish and W. F. Patterson, whose hearts are in the 
cause, and who make every worldly consideration bend to 
their profession) with one heart and mind entered upon 
the work. The result has been, thus far, thirty additions — 



KENTUCKY FEMALE ORPHAN SCHOOL. 49 

additions that caused joy inexpressible. The Lord's work 
and the Lord's cause triumphed here most gloriously. If 
I wished to witness a specimen of primitive Christianity 
in its modesty, humility, piety, simplicity, ardor, devo- 
tion, intelligence, and liberality in Christian enterprise in 
providing for the poor, the church at Midway would claim 
my attention as soon as any I have ever mingled with. 

** Here is the Kentucky Female Orphan School, origi- 
nated by Brother L. L. Pinkerton and the brethren at this 
place. Five acres of ground have been purchased, a most 
desirable and beautiful eminence, commanding a view of 
the country around, in all its loveliness. A most commo- 
dious, beautiful, and comparatively cheap building is in 
progress, and will be completed in a few weeks, so as to 
enable them to commence operations by the first of Sep- 
tember. It is a favorite scheme with the entire brother- 
hood, so far as I have learned, and we are resolved to 
make it worthy of their patronage. We hope there are 
hundreds in Kentucky who will esteem it a great privi- 
lege, without being appealed to,-to present one bank share 
to the institution, the interest of which shall be devoted 
to the education of the orphan girls. To the credit of 
this church and Woodford County, almost the entire cost 
of the grounds and buildings has been met by them. The 
money raised abroad is also to be vested, most sacredly, 
in safe stocks, as a permanent endowment. We expect 
brethren to make speedy work of the endowment. We 
have much else to do, and we desire to be relieved of this 
enterprise immediately. 

*' There are some forty or fifty churches in the heart of 
Kentucky that could finish the work entire without feeling 
it. The very heavens would resound with praise and joy 
at the accomplishment of so grand and benevolent an en- 
terprise 

*'Our meeting has continued with unabated interest and 



so LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

success — Brother Pinkerton and myself taking the labor- 
ing oars by turns. The final result has been thirty-eight 

additions 

**In all affection yours, J. T. Johnson/ '^ 

During the years 1853 and 1854, Dr. Pinkerton 
edited, with marked ability, the Kentucky depart- 
ment of the Christian Age, It would not be diffi- 
cult to construct a volume of charming and valuable 
essays from his editorials, which, dashed off twenty 
years ago for an obscure weekly^ newspaper, are to- 
day as bright and fresh as the new-coined thought 
of yesterday. 

In the year 1854, he edited the New Era, ?l temper- 
ance paper published from Lexington. In the year 
1856, he was tendered the presidency of Eureka Col- 
lege, Illinois. He declined the offer. 

During Dr. Pinkerton's residence in Midway, he 
preached at different periods, a part of his time for 
the churches of Versailles, Mt. Sterling, and Paris — 
every-where winning the favor of the communities 
and the ardent friendship of many brethren. The 
meeting-house of the church at Versailles was built 
during his ministry there, and so of the meeting- 
house in Paris. In all these places, he was instru- 
mental in converting sinners to Christ and inspiring 
his brethren with a more intelligent zeal and a more 
unselfish devotion. Nor was his influence confined 
to his own brotherhood ; his ministry had a marked 
effect on the whole community, dissipating prejudice, 
commanding respect, breaking the force of blind 
bigotry, and winning good people of different de- 
nominations to a tenderer charity and a larger toler- 



SLAVERY. 51 

ance. Wherever Dr. Pinkerton preached regularly, 
all men, black and white, high and low, were soon 
aware that a real matt was about — a man to respect, 
to honor, to love — a man with a Divine commission 
to preach and pray for men and to lead them on to 
higher and nobler lives. 

In the year 1858, he was preaching with great ac- 
ceptance in Paris, and at the earnest solicitation of 
his brethren there he had consented to settle as per- 
manent pastor of the church, but just as he was on 
the eve of moving, the Orphan School building was 
destroyed by fire, and he felt called on to change his 
purpose, and to remain in Midway to assist in recov- 
ering the institution from its ashes. 

Slavery. 

In the year 1857, Dr. Pinkerton delivered before a 
literary society in Midway a lecture of wonderful 
power on this subject: "Is the civilization of Europe 
and of the United States preferable to barbarism } " 
It was delivered the same year in Mt. Sterling at the 
instance of a large literary association, and finally to 
a large assembly in Paris, Ky., in 1858. The follow- 
ing extract was severely criticised at the time, and 
excited no little anxiety among some of his friends : 

'* ' Take one example — one of female woe.* 
''It is a county court-day in one of our rich counties, 
and a great crowd is gathered about the public square. 
The shadow of the temple of justice lies upon the throng, 
and near by are sundry fanes, sacred to the worship of 
Him who came to set the captive free, to unbind heavy 
burdens, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, to 
comfort the mourner, and to heal the broken hearts of 



52 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

earth. The crowd is proiniscuous. Old and young, rich 
and poor, saint and sinner, are mingled together. Tooth- 
less old men, somewhat drunk, and striplings, piping oaths 
and imprecations in soprano, are there. Our glorious civ- 
ilization and our piebald religion are both of them repre- 
sented. Let us see. then, what this civilization did in 
that year of our Lord 1S56. 

^' • Here,' cries a Stentor, standing on high, ' here is a 
chance for bargains. I will sell, under decree of court, 
this yellow woman and her live children to the highest 
bidder, without reserve.' 

'^The mother, tall and graceful, her large black eyes 
suffused in tears, looks into the crowd anxiously and sadly 
— not imploringly, for hope is gone. Her color indicates 
that the blood has gathered about her heart — this mother 
is put on the block first. The bidding is brisk, and she 
is soon off at a handsome price. [It was gi,2oo.] Then 
came the children — the oldest fifteen, the youngest, per- 
haps, three years of age. The mother watches as each 
new bid is cried, anxious, doubtless, to discover where her 
children are to go, ^ Berry,' a boy of six summers, ap- 
palled at the prospect, dashes suddenly into the crowd as 
if to escape ; he is caught and replaced on the block. 
His eyes swim, but he utters no sound — his young heart is 
crushed. And now, at last, comes the turn of little 
*Lucy.' She clings to her mother's skirts, screaming 
wildly. It shall not avail thee, Lucy; nor yet that dumb, 
eloquent despair of thy poor mother's countenance. 
What are lacerated, bleeding hearts, and streaming eyes, 
to these civilized gejitle?Jien ! 'Tis over; the mother is 
gone, and her children are scattered to the four winds of 
heaven. Xot one of them accojjipa7iies her to her new 
home. 

^* There remain two old, decrepit, broken-down * nig- 
gers,' man and wife. The old fellow leans on his cane, 
and tries to look his best; and his •' old woman,' in her 



SLAVERY. 53 

best attire, not ungracefully, stands up by his side. They 
have seen hard times, those old ' niggers,' and the white 
wool shows out from beneath the head-gear. From all 
that is apparent, they were both better dead. They still 
stand on the block, and the people laugh, and jeer the 
auctioneer. No one will have them — nothing is bid, and 
the old black man limps away, his wife following. God 
help you, old people ! Help for you in our civilization or 
in our religion, there is none. Oh, Mammon ! thou blind, 
heartless god, when will thy reign come to an end ? Ah ! 
does not Mammon hold it against Jesus in our civilization 
too ? Is not wealth more than immortality — the dollar 
more potent than the pleadings of inspiration/' 

Commenting on this passage in his lecture after- 
ward, he says : 

<^ Such were some of our utterances in three of the 
* Blue Grass ' centers four years before the war ; and we 
can testify that to talk thus before crowds of the wealth- 
iest, most ultra pro-slavery citizens of Kentucky, at that 
time, was * no child's play.' No doubt many of them 
thought it all a mere 'splurge,' the result of dyspepsia.' 

'* At that time I was an emancipationist, and desired 
the repeal of all inhuman laws in relation to the colored 
race, bond and free ; for the free negro code was not 
less barbarous than the slave code. I insisted that such 
scenes as the one above described — a scene that I wit- 
nessed with horror— should not be possible in a civilized 
community ; that the rite of matrimony among slaves 
should be enjoined, and measures adopted by which 
slavery should be abolished without serious shock to our 
industrial, social, and political systems 

<'Was Noah, waking out of a drunken snooze, indeed 
inspired of God to curse his grandson on account of the 
indiscretion of his son— the nature of which indiscretion 



54 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

is not very apparent in the ' Common Version ? ' Well, 
be it so; but does it thence follow that the people of the 
United States may treat men, women, and children as if 
they were cattle, four thousand years after the death of 
Noah, and in the nineteenth century of the blessed 
Jesus ? How will the story of slavery read in the millen- 
nium? * Cursed be Canaan,' said an old man somewhere 
not far from Ararat, more than four thousand years ago ; 
and disciples of Jesus in the United States cry out, * That 
means the '' nigger,'' sure as the judgment. Where is he? 
Let me at him, for the word of the Lord must be fulfilled, 
and that blessed scripture will fail if we do not perpetuate 
human bondage till Jesus comes to take his saints to 
glor)-.' .... 

'* These disciples, so zealous for the fulfillment of 
prophecy, seem to forget that a greater than Noah has ap- 
peared, of whom a prophet had said, ' He hath sent me 
to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the 
captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are 
bound.' They do not seem to care whether this scripture 
is fulfilled or not ; but that other sweet, precious, humane, 
Christ-like passage, * Cursed be Canaan/ has corn and 
cotton in it." 



LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 55 



CHAPTER X. 

Letters and Extracts from letters, 1853-1858. 

IN publishing some of the letters of Dr. Pinker- 
ton, it is simple justice to him to say that, beau- 
tiful as they are, they are but ** broken lights" of 
his beautiful soul. Some men's words are more 
eloquent than their characters ; not so with my 
friend. His character was greater than his speech, 
his spirit more loving than his words. 

In the unstudied utterances of his letters there 
appear his varying moods of tenderness^ of humor, 
of melancholy, but through all his love unfeigned 
and holy reverence of God : 

[I. To HIS Wife.] 

*^ Cincinnati, March 15, 1853. 

** My Dear : — I got your very kind letter this morning, 
and it affords me much comfort and encouragement. It 
is all I could wish it to be. I am satisfied. 

*' I have nothing new to write you. The attention I 
have been compelled to give to the mail-book, and to 
mailing the paper, has thrown me behind with my ques- 
tion-book to some extent; yet I think I will get home 
early next week. Oh, how anxious am I for the time to 
come! Were I not busy, busy, busy, I should leave in 
five hours. I forget where I am in the constant applica- 
tion to business. 



56 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

*^I send you a ring, which I hope will please you. You 
will get it before the twentieth anniversary of our wed- 
ding, and I hope you will wear it joyfully on the fortieth. 
How time flies ! It will soon be past. 

*' In a day or two I will send a little box of sundries; 
a little present in candies, etc., for yourself and our 
children. 

"Bro. Scott is sitting by me writing. May Heaven 
bless you all. 

*^Tell E. Y. P. to send me what subscribers he may 
get every other day. Farewell. L. L. Pinkerton.'' 



[II. To A Baptist Minister.] 

*' Midway, Ky., August 23, 1855. 
** Bro. Everts: 

^^ My Dear Sir : — In a late number of the Western 
Recorder I noticed a paragraph from your pen introducing 
and commending the following sentiment : ' The religion 
of Christ is not so much a theory to be explained as a 
life to be copied,'' I quote from memory, but I think cor- 
rectly; for the proposition has been sounding through all 
the chambers of my soul for some weeks past. I thank 
God that you see the true light. Coleridge said, long ago, 
that religion was not a theory, but a new life ; but your 
author is better. The ' new life ' of the dreaming, incom- 
prehensible philosopher is, or may be, a very indefinite 
affair. A new life is not always better, alas ! than the old. 
I have known a good many men ' the worse for mending,' 
spoiled by regeneration; converted from noble-hearted, 
generous souls into narrow-minded sectaries. No man 
can mistake 'the life to be copied.^ What, my dear 
sir, would be the effect of steadily preaching this senti- 
ment from all the pulpits of Kentucky for the next year? 
Have the great masses that fill our churches any such idea 
of religion? Far from it. It is all 'our riews/ * our 



LETTER TO A BAPTIST MINISTER. $7 

principles/ or * our doctrines, usages, and order.' The 
more highly educated portions of the world are turning 
away in disgust from our vain wranglings and strifes 
about words. To throw the sentiment of your author 
into one of our churches, would be like throwing light 
from a concave mirror into a cavern full of bats. Look 
at the late numbers of the Recorder on * Justification,' 
^Campbellism,' etc., and look at the Harbinger on the 
'Metaphysics of Salvation.' That story that some one 
put into your monthly of last month about the old negro 
was a rich thing ! * Me run away from God, massa, and 
den God run arter me,' etc. What will not a man do 
and say under the stimulus of party zeal ! 

*' In your sentiment is healing for all our troubles. I 
pray you, dear brother, use your talents, your influence, 
your position, to bring that great truth to bear upon the 
ministry of Kentucky. Justification, faith, repentance, 
remission, regeneration, operations of the Spirit, predesti- 
nation, will all adjust themselves^ if our brethren would 
awake to this, practically, viz : ^Religion is a life to be 
copied, ' 

*'How many of the dear youth of our country under- 
stand our debates ? They can all understand this : To be 
a Christian, is to copy the life of the dear Saviour. All 
else is empty pretense. 

''It does seem that the old battles are to be fought 
over again, and why? Surely, those of us who have 
intelligent children will have to blush when they shall ask 
us why we are quarreling. For all either party is doing 
for the dear old Gospel in this State, we may well keep 
silent about our theories. To hear men wrangling about 
modes of faith, when their lives are a disgrace to the 
religion of Jesus, is most disgusting. Can nothing be 
done to avert the threatened contest? Can not Bro. F. 
be induced to suspend his volleys of bad English and 
shocking logic for a little season ? Why do not you and 



58 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Dr. Lynd conduct the war against us, if we must have 
war? Our ministry respect you both, but who can toler- 
ate the gibberish of F., P., and S. ? Such * sophomor- 
ical ' affectation of logic is ridiculous. And then the 
oracular air with which the dishes are served up ! I pray 
you, Bro. Evarts, do what you can to induce your corps 
editorial to treat us fairly and kindly. I tell you that my 
brethren have had no covert or sinister designs. We have 
been truly and, generally, religiously desirous of a closer 
union with the Baptists. We have all much to gain that we 
need, and much to lose that we were well rid of, by 
uniting. I had hoped that the time had nearly come 
when we might hopefully call a convention to consider 
some principle and plan of union. But the curse of this 
poor world, small men with * big heads,' is threatening to 
ruin all. How would the angels rejoice, could we so 
adjust our differences as to preach together without con- 
tention or jealousies! and how would poor sinners come 
by thousands unto God ! Think of this. 

** My brethren in this State are ready to do whatever 
they can conscientiously to promote harmony; but we 
ask fairness. P. tries to make the impression in the Re- 
corder of last week, that we deny that * justification is by 
faith without the deeds of the law.* Why did he not say 
that we deny justification by faith without the ' obedience 
of faith ' ? He says also, in effect, that the heart has 
nothing to do with faith according to our teaching, and 
yet he knows that every one whom we receive to baptism 
is required to answer this question : * Do you believe with 
all your heart,' etc. ? I was shocked beyond measure by 
that article of P. I know not how to excuse him. . . . 

'* I wrote to Bro. Wycoff some weeks ago to send old 
Father Maclay out to Kentucky again. If we can manage 
to defer the war a few years, in my opinion it will never 
come. May we ^ copy a life ' at this particular juncture — 
the only true human life ever lived. 



LETTER TO HIS DAUGHTER. 59 

^^I have been confined by sickness for some days, and 
am not well able to write, especially to think. 

'^ I have written to you as I would to one of my own 
immediate brethren ; nor have I stopped, as my pen has 
run along these lines, to consult any thing but my heart.. 

*'^In humble hope of the rest — the dear rest remaining 
for the people of God — I am faithfully yours, 

*^L. L. PiNKERTON." 



[III. To HIS Daughter Virginia at School.] 

''Midway, Ky., September 16, 1856. 
*' I got home this morning, my dear daughter, and 
found all pretty well. My own health had improved dur- 
ing absence. 

*< The stem was here, but the rose was gone, 
I found the cage, but the dove had flown. 

''You will pardon me, my loved one, for perpetrating 
such a couplet. I could not more easily express my feel- 
ings, when I came into the house and found you indeed 
gone. You can not, perhaps, understand now why I 
should weep, but you will appreciate it some day, should 
you live. 

"I drop you this note to assure you of my ardent love, 
and to request that you often write to me. I will take 
much pleasure in corresponding with you regularly. I 
wish to begin now, and continue while we may both live. 
Let me know all your wishes, greater or smaller, and 
believe that I will be ever ready to aid you to the full 
extent of my ability. My daughter, do not neglect 
prayer, habitual prayer to our Heavenly Father. Go often 
to the unutterably dear Saviour, who gave himself for us. 
He will bless you, and make you a blessing. 

"Give my love to all the faculty, and accept the ten- 
derest wishes of your father, L. L. Pinkerton." 



60 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

[IV.] 

*^ Midway, Ky., November 15, 1856. 

*' My Dear Daughter: — Your last to your ma was re- 
ceived and read with much interest, and she being busy 
' cleaning up, ' has commissioned me to reply. 

** We are especially pleased to know that you are happy, 
and that you appreciate the opportunity you now enjoy of 
acquiring an education. Believe me, my daughter, your 
education will be more, infinitely more, than what is called 
fortune. Take care of your health and persevere. Do 
not, my daughter, run crazy about dress, and become 
frivolous. Nothing so disgusts sensible men. I would 
rather see you careless about your apparel than over- 
anxious. Speaking of dress reminds me of 'gowns' — 
your ma will endeavor to send you one when I come over, 
but can not, in the present press of business^ get both 
made in time. 

*'The 'college' is the only concern in the state that 
merits the title of school. This is my firm conviction, 
and I esteem it my duty to say so whenever or wherever I 
please, and I shall most certainly do so. I esteem it a 
most fortunate circumstance for you that Mr. Williams 
came to Kentucky just when he did. So highly do I ap- 
preciate his genius and skill, and so anxious am I for your 
usefulness and consequent happiness in life, that I would 
not for five hundred dollars in gold have you leave school, 
even could you do this without offense. Indeed, I would 
rather give Mr. Williams ^300 per session than half the 
amount to any school known to me. I suppose I ought 
to know something about schools — about the art of teach- 
ing. 

** I have forborne, and still decline, to give you any ad- 
vice touching your conduct towards your teacliers and 
class-mates. I rely, my daughter, confidently upon your 
good sense and your Christian principle. Consult these, 



LETTER FROM PARIS. 6l 

lean upon the Lord in faith and prayer, and you will walk 
safely. 

'^ We are all well, and all send you love, not affected. 
Present my kindest compliments to all your room-mates, 
and to all who inquire for me — to the^college, family, and 
faculty. 

*' I inclose you a curious letter by way of amusement 
and warning/ It came from Tennessee some days ago. 
You may let Mr. Bowman see it, and tell him while it 
shows up the glory of having been an editor, it may be of 
use to him in preparing his address for the Bowman Insti- 
tute. Give my love to Mrs. Bowman. God bless you, 
daughter. L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



[V.] 
'* Paris, Ky., March 9, 1857. 

*^My Dear Daughter : — I would have replied to your 
kind letter to me but for the private intention I had enter- 
tained of seeing you during the present week. For 
various causes my visit must be deferred. 

** I was at Cane Ridge yesterday, and heard and replied 
to many kind inquiries concerning you. You have warm 
friends in that community as well as myself. 

** You intimate that you will be satisfied with one letter 
per month from me. It would not be a very serious task 
to write to you every day, my dear daughter. Few things 
are easier or more pleasant to me. I had not supposed 
that you would so much value my hasty scribblings, but 
love covers a multitude of faults. I have many things to 
communicate to you, and think soon to begin my re7ninis- 
cences. You have little thought how much my happiness 
in the years that may yet be allotted me depend upon you. 
Whatever may be your course in life, I claim one thing, 
and but one — your confidence. This you must, in no 
case, deny me. 



62 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

** * Some feelings are to mortals given 

With less of earth in them than heaven ; 

And if there be a human tear, 

From passion's drop refined and clear — 

A tear so limpid and so meek, 

It would not stain an angel's cheek, 

'Tis that which loving fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head.' 

During the closing winter, I passed the forty-fifth mile- 
stone on life's highway. Only twenty-five remain, allow- 
ing that I sh.al\^Z>ei ^7'afia, reach the prescribed terminus. 
Clearly I am on the summit of the hill, and soon, I know, 
it will be manifest to all that I am descending. We all 
of us know what awaits us at the foot. My life, like most 
human lives, has been a struggle unintermitted — a struggle 
not yet crowned with victory, not yet ended by defeat. 
This last is impossible — if I can not be victor, I will at 
least prove myself invincible ; if I can not conquer, I can 
fight to the last, and fall at last with ' my back to the field 
and my feet to the foe.* Not here is our home. We are 
pilgrims and sojourners. How should our hearts cling to 
that dear Saviour, who is now fitting up mansions for us — 
mansions eternal in the heavens ! We may meet there, 
my dear one, and be happy. There we may find all that 
our holiest, most enlarged wishes can embrace. ^ Never 
here, forever there,' shall tears be wiped away from off all 
faces. 

^^ I have written here in Major Williams' law office in 
the midst of much loud talking, and on the only paper at 
hand. Accept this as a trifling souvenir. I shall go on 
home in a few hours. I will be to see you in a few weeks, 
if the Lord will. Give my love to all the dear girls, and 
teachers, and the family. Harrodsburgh has many attrac- 
tions for me. I am deeply in love with a good many 
noisy, chattering girls over there, and especially with my 



"prince of judah/' 63 

own dear daughter. May heaven's blessing rest on you 
forever. Very affectionately, your fatlier, 

** L. L. PiNKERTON.'* 



[VI.] 

'^ Midway, Ky., November 17, 1858. 

^'My Daughter Dear: — I got your letter this morn- 
ing, and am glad to say that you could not have written 
one more grateful and cheering to my heart. I had in- 
dulged in no suspicions prejudicial to your relations to 
me. I know you have much to do, and I will be well sat- 
isfied with only an occasional letter. During the * present 
distress ' you must exercise equal leniency towards me. If 
I can know that you are happy and steady pilgriming to the 
land of Canaan, I shall be satisfied. 

'* You have not said too much in commendation of the 
^Prince of the House of Judah.^ I have read portions 
of the work, and esteem it beyond measure. Most persons 
of my age who have been accustomed to religious medita- 
tion, have, of course, gone over all the ground occupied 
by our author. The dear old gospels are mere fragment- 
ary memoirs. 

** ^ And many other things truly did Jesus, which are not 
recorded in this book,' says John. The author of the 
Prince of Judah has, by connecting the fragments and 
employing a modern style, made the whole story of Jesus 
more appreciable by the modern mind. The character of 
Christ is the citadel of Christianity, his divine nature its 
foundation ; and whatever enables us truly to apprehend 
the latter and admire the former is worthy to be held in 
highest estimation. 

** Your new experience, my daughter, is an earnest of 
your eternal salvation. It is the light of life shining into 
your heart. This experience came to me later in life, but 
it comes to all who in childhood obey the gospel and then 
follow on to know the Lord. To many it never comes; 
6 



64 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

alas ! for the reason that religious influences are wanting 
during the period of transition from youth to maturer life. 
On this account, many who join the church in childhood, 
especially boys, fall away and become utterly reprobate. 
* 'Yo feel the beauty and sublimity of the character of Je- 
sus,* and to aim at conformity to that character, is religion 
— the religion of God. You have now attained to the 
^ Great Awakening ; * the simple faith of childhood has be- 
come the profoundest philosophy of the woman. Hold 
fast, then, my dear, to this, the pearl of gieat price, and 
when heart and flesh shall fail, God will be the strength 
of your heart and your portion for evermore. 

*' I am suffering much to-night from headache, and have 
several letters to write. I go to-morrow to Paris. I will 
endeavor to write you again soon. 

'^ Give my love to Georgie. She is a dear good girl, 
and must become a disciple of the Saviour. Give my love 
to all the teachers and friends, and believe me, ever truly 
yours,. L. L. Pinkerton.*' 

The following letter belongs chronologically to a 
later period, but in order to preserve more closely 
the continuity of the subsequent narrative it is in- 
serted here : 

[To Charles Headley.] 

*^Harrodsburg, Kv., Feb. 7, 1865 
*^ My Dear Charles: — 'The day is cold, and dark, 
and dreary.' I am in a quiet room thinking of the days 
that are gone, and of the many dear friends that have 
gone with them. I have grown sad in these meditations, 
and I turn from these holy and cherished memories to 
those who still tread with me the ways of life. Whither 
these lead we all know; and, alas ! how soon is the goal 
reached. The beautiful, the good, and the great are gone 
into their long, deep slumbers. We shall soon take our 



ADVICE. 65 

places with them in the silent land. For myself, the 
spring and the summer are past, with prospects of an 
autumn both early and short, and we all know what is to 
follow upon this. What I find to do, therefore, I must do 
with all my might, since * there is no knowledge, nor 
work, nor device in the grave, whither we hasten.' 

*'I was disappointed at not seeing you here in the 
Christmas holidays. I had made some provision for you 
in the way of a barrel of corn and other things in due 
proportion; but as you did not come, w^e had to use the 
corn the best way we could. Will you be over on the 2 2d 
inst- ? I do not wish you to neglect your business or your 
engagements, but if you are at leisure give us a call. 
There will be the usual amount of spouting and other 
humbugism, but I suppose, to the young, it may prove in- 
teresting. At all events it will furnish some variety, 
which is said to be the spice of life. I want to have a 
long talk with you, and lest you should not find it alto- 
gether convenient to visit H. at that time, I will even 
say somewhat to you now and thus. 

'*I need not enumerate the many reasons I have for de- 
siring your success in life ; that is, that of life as a 
whole you should make a success — a complete success. 
The fact that I had much to do with your education 
would of itself justify the concern I feel for you : yet 
this is not the chief reason. I will not now, however, 
assign any other 

** My dear Charles, I wrote thus far several days ago, ' 
but being interrupted I have not since found leisure till 
now to resume. As I do not propose to write you a 
news* letter, this is a matter of no moment. And now to 
my object. You have, I think, done well, but not the 
very best. I am satisfied with you, and yet not satisfied 
as fully as I would like to be. In our long and fiimiliar 
intercourse I have very seldom spoken to you privately 
on the greatest of all subjects that can occupy a human 



66 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

soul, viz., its own salvation. I have, however, as you 
well know, spoken a good many discourses from the pul- 
pit for you, and I had not ceased to indulge the hope 
that as the visions — the dreamy schemes of early life — re- 
ceded, your mind would swing round to the ark of God as 
a refuge, the only refuge for poor unfortunate man. I 
thought that before now you would have taken your place 
in the church of God with your father and mother, who 
have done so much for you, and with those of your friends 
— your real friends — who wish to see you in the way to a 
home in the heavens. I have thought it not unlikely that 
your acquaintance with many members of churches whose 
lives would disgrace a publican, has kept you back from 
the all- merciful One. I have no doubt, my dear Charles, 
that you are more honorable, more high-minded, ez'ery 
way better than hundreds of young men whose names are 
on church records — perhaps better than many old men 
whose names are in the same place. I need not point out 
to you the utter fallaciousness *of a plea for disobedience 
to God based upon this ground. Perhaps I do you injus- 
tice by the surmise. It would stand thus : ' Some men 
profess religion who are not religious ; therefore I need 
not be religious.' You are familiar with this shocking 
sophistry. I know, indeed, that to all earnest souls this 
sham religion is — must be — intensely disgusting. Without 
ever pretending myself to any extra holiness, I have been 
repelled by this hollow pretense, but it will not make the 
curse of God any more tolerable to me that I should share 
it with false professors. 

'' You are reaching an age now at which Jiabits of mind 
as well as of body are likely to become fixed — fixed for 
life, yes, for eternity. This fact must explain to you my 
interest in relation to your position on the great question 
of Christ's mission to our race. It will be a sad thing 
for me if you settle away into middle life confirmed in 
indifference to your relations to the church. I speak to 



ADVICE. 6*] 

you as I would to my own son — * seek first the kingdom 
of God.' Prayerfully, penitently consider the claims of 
Jesus upon your understanding and your heart, and take 
your place with those who are hoping by faith and patience 
to inherit the promises. How would you like to bid your 
mother an everlasting farewell ? Your answer is proof of 
man's immortality, and of the paramount claims upon us 
of the ' glorious gospel of the blessed God.' 

** For the present, no farther. Let me hear from you. 
I suspect I shall not see you very often in the coming 
years ; but for myself I am determined to fight my battle 
to the end. If I can not conquer, I will at least die un- 
conquered. 

** We are tolerable in health. Give my kindest regards 
to all, and believe me, 

** Ever truly, yours, L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



68 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER XI. 

I.eaves Midway — Accepts a professorship in Kentucky University — The 
war — State of parties in Kentucky — A Union man — Reasons — Enters 
the Union Army — Sickness — Kindness of Captain Carr and family, 
of Louisville — John Taffe — J. B. Bowman. 

IN the year i860, at the earnest and repeated solic- 
itation of Mr. John B. Bowman, the founder of 
Kentucky University, Dr. Pinkerton accepted the 
professorship of English Literature in that institu- 
tion. In the month of August he, with his family, 
moved to Harrodsburg, at that time the seat of the 
University. It was a sad day for him when he broke 
up his home at Midway. Here he had lived for sixteen 
years ; here was the church to which he had given 
the best years of a man's life ; here was the orphan 
school ; here the poor, that he had generously served, 
had their lowly homes ; here his father had peacefully 
died ; here four of his children — James, Samuel, 
Lewis, Mary Belle — had been born. If births and 
deaths, and sorrows and joys, and manly struggles can 
bind a human heart to a place, surely his heart was 
bound to Midway. The people of that town ought 
to cherish his memory evermore ; for having loved 
them once, he loved them to the end. 

In September he entered on his professorial duties. 
The same manliness, tact, sympathy and humor, com- 
bined with rare intelligence and never-failing memory, 
that made him so charming in conversation about the 



KENTUCKY BEFORE THE WAR. 69 

fireside, rendered him a most successful and delight- 
ful instructor. His very presence was an inspira- 
tion, and the young men who attended his classes 
caught health and courage and hope from his great, 
strong, kindly nature. 

In the year 1861, the war of the rebellion broke 
out, and the American people were called to one of 
the most memorable and stupendous and far-reaching 
conflicts of history. My readers must allow me here 
a few paragraphs to explain the state of feeling in 
Kentucky, and to give them some idea of the envi- 
ronments of Dr. Pinkerton at this most important 
crisis of his history. 

At the outbreak of the war there was a very 
decided Union sentiment in Kentucky. It lacked, 
however, the awful and sublime earnestness of the 
loyalty of the Northern people that supported the 
war. Slavery, the curse which rested on our whole 
social life, from the very beginning half-paralyzed the 
loyalty of Kentucky. 

The Union, for a quarter of a century, had been 
the constant theme of an eloquence seldom surpassed 
on the earth — an eloquence which had enchanted the 
Kentucky people, and made the orator the accepted 
and idolized leader of a great, conservative poHtical 
party which for years controlled the State. When the 
war broke out, Mr. Clay had been nine years in his 
grave, but his fiery words of devotion to the Union, 
still kindled a patriotic flame in the hearts of the old 
Whigs. He had always stood in fierce antagonism 
to Mr. Calhoun and the whole school of South Caro- 
lina politicians, and a great body of the most intelli- 
gent and powerful citizens of Kentucky had shared 



JO LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

with him, or inherited from him, his political princi- 
ples and ardent patriotism. Hence, when the Gulf 
States moved for a dissolution of the Union, Kentucky 
drew back with horror, and pleaded and warned with 
tears. Yet, Kentucky was a Southern State, and, like 
her "wayward sisters," was wedded to slavery, and as' 
a necessary consequence she hated the Republican 
party with a perfect hatred, and was filled with bitter 
resentment against it for having elected her owii 
great-hearted, loyal child, Abraham Lincoln, to be 
President of the United States. Only 1360 men in 
Kentucky voted for Lincoln in i860 ; and their votes 
imperilled their standing in society and in business, 
and, in some cases, imperilled even life itself. 

The peculiar social life of Kentucky, her geo- 
graphical position, her traditional politics, her con- 
nection with slavery, all tended to create a singular 
and very confused public sentiment. As between the 
Union and Secession, she was overwhelmingly for the 
Union ; as between the North and the South, she was 
overwhelmingly for the South ; as between the Union 
and slavery, she was overwhelmingly for slavery. 

When all hope of peace and neutrality and media- 
tion was gone, and each man had to decide under 
which flag he would stand, there was a strange con- 
flict of feeling in many hearts and homes. Father 
was arrayed against son, brother against brother, 
neighbor against neighbor, and often, even a man 
was arrayed against himself, swayed by contending 
emotions, weeping when the old flag was hauled 
down by violent hands in the public square, and yet 
in a moment scowling bitterly at the North. 

Many boldly espoused the cause of the South. 



AN UNCONDITIONAL UNION MAN. 7 1 

Many timidly and conditionally stood by the Union, 
and of these, whole brigades broke hurriedly to the 
Other side the next day after Bull Run, and a great 
multitude either lost heart or went over, body and 
soul, on the appearance of the Emancipation Procla- 
mation of September, 1862. A considerable minority 
declared unconditionally for the Union, and through 
all the storm adhered to the old flag, as well when 
trailed in temporary defeat as when borne aloft in vic- 
tory ; when blazoned with liberty as when darkened 
with the old device of slavery. In this last class — 
the class of unconditional Union men, of firm and 
undaunted supporters of the policy of the adminis- 
tration — Dr. Pinkerton was found, first, last, and 
always. 'Abraham Lincoln was himself a Kentuckian 
by birth and somewhat a Kentuckian in feeling, and he 
was a fair type of that class of loyal Kentuckians to 
which Dr. Pinkerton belonged — cautious, firm, con- 
siderate, progressive, unyielding ; whose light shone 
more and more unto the perfect day. 

Dr. Pinkerton, with all the ardor of his nature, ad- 
vocated the cause of the Union every-where save in 
the pulpit — his exceeding anxiety to preserve the 
unity of the churches making him here unduly con- 
servative. In a fragmentary document never pub- 
lished, he states in a few words the convictions of 
truth and duty which " controlled his conduct as a 
Christian minister, in relation to our late civil war 
and to the issues which arose immediately out of it." 
He says : 

'^I do not ask that an ardent patriotism no doubt in 
part the result of my having heard men talk of our Rr.vo- 
7 



12 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

iutionary War, who had taken part in it, and who had 
i;ee7i Washington and the fathers — shall be taken into the 
iccount. I may, however, be allowed to say, that love 
)f the United States of America, as my country, had been 
►vith me, from early boyhood, an absorbing passion ; and 
aer independence and greatness and glory, next to the 
nope of a blissful immortality for myself and for my race, 
had been dear to my heart., 1 was in this respect, I sup- 
pose, like a majority of my generation, who when books 
were scarce, read and re-read the Life of Washington j and 
while hoeing corn on the long summer days, fought over 
and over again, a thousand times, the battles of Bunker 
Hill, and Trenton, and Monmouth, and Brandy wine, and 
Princeton, and Saratoga, and Yorktown ! The old fervor 
returns after fifty years of turmoil, as I recall the patriotic 
dreams of long ago. 

" Slavery I had always regarded as an inmieasurable 
outrage against the natural, inalienable rights of man, and 
as an original question, wholly indefensible. Like thou- 
sands of others holding similar views, however, I faltered, 
in presence of the immense problem of emancipation, and 
was not a,t any time a political abolitionist. I could not 
see how the irnmediate emancipation of four millions of 
ignorant slaves could result to their advantage, or consist 
with the safety of the white race. Time has shown that 
the evils apprehended from doing justly, were for the most 
part, imaginary. 

^' I. When the war came on in 1861, I regarded Abra- 
ham Lincoln as the lawful chief executive of the whole 
United States; and the co-ordinate branches of the Govern- 
ment as holding their positions by force of that Consti- 
tution which was, and is, the supreme law of all the States. 
Abranam Lincoln and his Cabinet, the Congress, and the 
Supreme Court, were in that spring of 1861, the supreme 
' powers that be,' to whom every Christian was bound to 
render obedience — to whom every Christian was pledged 



ENTERS THE UNION ARMY. 73 

to ^be subject, not only for wrath, but for conscience* 
sake.' — (See Rom. xiii.) If the expansion of the country, 
and the development of new interests required a modifi- 
cation of our government, the organic law of the nation 
provided for such modification by peaceful means, and 
thus rendered any plausible pretext for bloody revolution 
impossible. Those Christians, therefore, who in any way 
aided the great insurrection against the constitutional 
'powers' of the United States, are guilty of grievous sin 
against God, 

*' 2. Chattel slavery was intensified barbarism. The 
original wrong of enslaving a man, compelled a series of 
outrages at which humanity shudders, and entailed on both 
parties to the wrong unnamable evils. It was not to 
secure this institution, as it existed in the slave states, that 
war was levied against the Government of the United 
States, in 1861 ; but to extend it indefinitely, both as to 
time and territory. That the South might perform the 
unheard-of feat of founding a free government on the 
chattel bondage of millions of men and women, it com- 
pelled the Government of the United States to choose 
between civil war and national death. The object of the 
insurrection was, therefore, infinitely iniquitous — it was, 
at once, a sin against God, and unjustifiable rebellion 
against a benign government, and a conspiracy against the 
dearest interests of the whole human race." 

Believing that as a surgeon in the army he could 
render efficient service to the Government in the 
prosecution of the war, he sought and obtained an 
appointment in the Eleventh Kentucky Cavalry, and 
was commissioned on the i8th day of September, 
1862, four days before the Proclamation of lunanci- 
pation was issued. His regiment was in camp near 
Louisville. He set himself at once to a vigorous 



74 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

discharge of his official duties, to which he added the 
labors of a chaplain. He held daily prayer meetings 
in the regiment, determining to exert his influence 
to make it a religious regiment, and fill it with some- 
thing of the fervor and devotion of Cromwell's Iron- 
sides. This was not simply an artful device of his to 
perfect the discipline of his soldiers, but was a gen- 
uine movement of his own God-fearing spirit. Enter- 
ing the army under a strong religious conviction, and 
believing most devoutly that the cause of the Govern- 
ment was just and right in the sight of the ever-living 
God, he desired to see his soldiers men of faith, and 
not stolid hirelings or reckless adventurers ; he de- 
sired to see them strengthened through all w^eary 
marches, and in the dread hour of battle, and in 
wretched prison holds, and hospitals, by his own 
deep sense of God's approval and presence. 

He was in overhaste to accomplish his end, and 
soon broke down from excessive work. After a day 
of unusual care and exertion, he entered his tent ex- 
hausted and w^eary and lay dowm to sleep ; but twice 
before midnight he was called up to see the sick, and 
on returning the last time he fell to the ground un- 
conscious. After some hours, consciousness returned 
and he attempted to rise, but was unable to do so. 
The next morning he w^as found by his comrades in 
this helpless condition, and at his own request was 
removed to the residence of his old friend Captain 
Carr, of Louisville, where he received from this noble 
old man and his blessed Christian wafe and their 
family, every kindness that it was in their powder to 
show. They were devoted Southerners, and not at 
all in sympathy wath the Doctor's ardent Unionism, 



SICKNESS. 75 

but the greatest and most honored Southern general, 
sick and wounded, would not have found in their 
hospitable home more loving attention than did this 
worn and pale surgeon of the Federal service — the 
friend and brother of their peaceful days. Captain 
Carr preceded Dr. Pinkerton to the eternal rest. His 
wife, well advanced in years, serenely awaits the sum- 
mons which is to call her to that heavenly country 
where friends are re-united and ''friendship knows 
no death.*' 

Elder John Taife, hearing of his sickness, came to 
his relief and faithfully attended him night and day, 
for weeks. For a long time life trembled in the bal- 
ance. Finally, believing that he was about to die, he 
sent for his friend Mr. J. B. Bowman, who, breaking 
into his sick room one morning with the sunshine of 
his bright, hopeful presence, rallied his spirits, and 
the next day in the face of all manner of anxious 
protests on the part of timid friends, carried him in 
his arms to a carriage in waiting at the door, and rode 
out with him ; and on the next day started with him 
to Harrodsburg, their home, a distance of about one 
hundred miles. He slowly regained strength, but the 
attack in some way seriously injured his nervous 
system, and it was several years before he was re- 
stored to his usual health. 



y6 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Removes to Lexington — Conflict — Strife. 

I COME now to a chapter in Dr. Pinkerton's his- 
tory that I would gladly omit — not on his account, 
however, for as well as any other it illustrates his 
high character, his fidelity, his courage, his ardor, his 
endurance, his intellectual ability ; but I would pre- 
fer to omit it because, if faithfully written, it may 
stir some bitter memories that are dying away, and 
that ought not recklessly to be revived. Honor and 
truth, lay upon me the stern necessity to write. 
I shall endeavor to be faithful, but as gentle to the 
living as justice to the dead will allow. 

In a book that possibly may be read by a few per- 
sons long after my hands are fleshless skeletons, and 
my eyes are dust, I would not, as I value truth and 
my own souFs eternal peace, record any thing that 
would work injustice to any man living, or wrong his 
memory when dead. 

In the summer of 1865, Kentucky University was 
removed from Harrodsburg to Lexington. With the 
other officers of the institution, Dr. Pinkerton came 
along, bringing with him a letter of honorable dis- 
mission from the church in Harrodsburg, and intend- 
ing to unite with the church in Lexington. 

The war was over, and the Kentucky youth of 
both armies who had survived it had returned — the 



EXTKACT FROM AN ESSAY. JJ 

Federals and Confederates ; his oldest son among 
the latter. Dr. Pinkerton often said to me that at 
this time no lost child ever yearned more deeply for 
the light and warmth of the home fireside than did 
he for the lost or suspended sympathy of his breth- 
ren in Christ. The following beautiful extract from 
one of his published essays fairly sets forth the mag- 
nanimous and truthful spirit which animated him at 
the close of the war, and during all the succeeding 
years, until God called him to rest with the sleepers 
whose memories he so tenderly cherished : 

** I could go with those of the late Confederacy who 
mourn their brave sons and brothers, fallen in battle, to 
where they sleep, and weep with the weepers, I could 
sincerely bemoan the sad fate of the thousands stricken 
down while ^fighting for their flag and faith,' ^ the stars 
and bars,' and the divine right of slavery. I could forgive 
from the heart any one who should desire my friendship. 
I could even scatter flowers over the graves of the Con- 
federate dead, and bedew them with tears ; but I can not 
sell my principles. I must still say, if forced to it, even 
while scattering flowers over the Confederate graves, and 
weeping : ' These poor, brave young men fell in an un- 
righteous war against a beneficent government ; they fell 
in a war in which enormous atrocities were committed by 
those who controlled them ; they died in a cause which it 
behooves the rest of the human race to see overthrown.' 
It were better that a million more should die than this 
continent should be belted by a great slave empire, whose 
existence would imperil liberty of every kind throughout 
the whole earth ; and while, as in Kentucky, devotion to 
the Confederate cause is made the measure of a man's fit- 
ness for social, political and ecclesiastical advancement, 
us long as fealty to the ^ stars and stripes' and the cause 



78 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

of universal freedom is disparaged and contemned, so 
long must I stand up armed for conflict. Wishing, with 
ail the intensity possible to the amount of soul God has 
given me. for the reign of peace and good-will ; longing 
for oblivion of all wrongs and the re-union of all hearts, 
I must still abide by what I believe to be right and true ; 
and as long as this belief is challenged, I shall, by God's 
help, promptly meet the challenger. ' With malice to- 
ward none, but with charity to all,* we stand in our lot, to 
do or suffer, as Providence may decree. 

[Note. — ^* There remains a considerable number of 
young men and lads in Kentucky, over whom, from causes 
unknown to the writer, he has still much influence. For 
them the last two or three paragraphs have been written. 
No malignant hatred of J>ersc>/!s must be allowed to mingle 
with hatred of false and despicable principles; nor must 
fidelity to our convictions of the right and the true be 
maintained but in sympathy for those who, whether 
actively or passively, are the victims of the false and the 
wrong.] P." 

On his return to Lexing-ton he sought Christian 
recognition of the brotherhood, many of whom he 
had known for twenty-six years. Such, however, 
was the spirit in which his advances were met, that 
he recoiled from contact with it ; and every senti- 
ment of self-respect admonished him not to repeat 
them. Notwithstanding many rebufls, he did con- 
tinue in various ways to seek peace until January, 
1866, when he drew the sword and threw away the 
scabbard, determined, as he said, if he must die 
ecclesiastically, that he would die fighting. 

At the close of the war, and after the withdraw^al 
of the Federal troops, and the return of the Confed- 
erates, Southern feeling ran high in Kentucky. 



HIS DIFFICULTIES. 



79 



Devotion to the Southern cause was a test — almost 
a supreme one — not only for political office, but for 
social standing, and for the public ministry in the 
church. Union preachers were not in demand in 
the churches of Kentucky, and if any such were 
received, even as guests for a little while, it was a 
severe strain on the inborn courtesy of Southern 
Christians. Of course, there were individual excep- 
tions, and even in some churches a few resolute men 
held this feeling in check ; but no man who regards 
his character for truth will deny the correctness of 
my statement. Indeed, I have understated the case, 
and rendered it as colorless as possible. 

In Dr. Pinkerton's expressive language, the union 
between the *^ rebel" and the *' loyal" brethren in 
the Kentucky churches was " such a union as is 
effected between an anaconda and a timid rabbit 
when the former condescends to swallow the latter.'* 
Many Union men, who were intensely loyal while 
the war lasted, and blue coats and bayonets ruled the 
state, and government contracts were to be secured, 
found it convenient now to seek repose for their 
" wearied virtue " by almost absolute quiet, or by 
an irrepressible and fiery ardor for the great polit- 
ical party through which the defeated Confederates 
sought place and power. Dr. Pinkerton would do 
neither. He sought friendly relations with those 
whom he had opposed in the war ; but when the 
cause of the government was contemned, and he, 
for that cause, was derided, he stood up like an 
armed man for the conflict, and made it uncomfort- 
ably hot for his assailant. His very manliness and 
outspoken candor thus became to him the source ot 



8o LIFE OF L. L. PINKEKTON. 

many trials. Better, oh ! brave heart, forever stilled 
those trials than paltry time-serving, and tricks, and 
concealments, and consequent self-disgust ! 

Passing by all the slights and grievances of private 
life, I must, briefly, call attention to the treatment 
Dr. Pinkerton received at this time as a public man. 
He had received no call to preach for any church in 
Kentucky after his return from the army in 1862. 
Of course, each church was free to call him or not, 
at its own option ; and I allude to the fact here only 
to show the feeling in the churches and the very try- 
ing circumstances in which he was placed. 

As before remarked, he brought with him from 
the Harrodsburg church a letter of commendation, 
and he intended to unite with the church in Lex- 
ington. He went to church on Lord's day and to 
prayer-meetings during the week ; but he was neither 
asked to preach nor to pray, to give thanks nor to 
exhort. He was utterly ignored, and that, too, in a 
church he had helped to build, and for which he 
had once labored as pastor with great acceptance. 
He was a professor in Kentucky University, a man 
of culture, a Christian minister of unstained private 
life, a gentleman of established character, and it was 
not meet that he should be treated as though he 
were an upstart of yesterday, a petty culprit who 
merited punishment, but received only contempt. 
He had a clear right to the most fair and open con- 
sideration ; and the attempt made to ignore him, to 
freeze him out, was a cruel injustice that amounted 
to a crime. Moreover, the course pursued toward 
him had in it, as all men ought to have known, the 
seeds of a great disaster. 



IS IGNORED IN THE CHURCH. 8l 

He was ignored in the church, it has since been 
said, in order to preserve peace by avoiding offense 
to Southern feeling. Well, be it so. Of course, I 
hold that the reason assigned is as bad as was the 
act ; but whether bad or good, he was entitled to a 
frank avowal of it at the time ; and this straight- 
forward avowal being made, then the monstrous 
falsehood about politics being ignored in the Ken- 
tucky churches, and by the Kentucky preachers, 
ought forthwith to have been hushed into eternal 
silence. 

He frequently said to me, substantially : 

^' I never allow myself to be discounted. I pass at par, 
or not at all. I would not in '65 accept membership on 
the degrading terms tacitly prescribed ; nor will I now, 
nor at any time between this and the millennium, accept 
a place in a church that must force the feeling that I owe 
my place to the mercy or grace or pity of Confederate 
Democrats. Whenever they meet me in that character, and 
take on pious or other airs, I shall meet them in the 
spirit of '61 ; though I am more than willing, and have 
been since the close of the war, to meet a?ty noble-minded 
Coftfederate brother who, desiring oblivion of all past 
feuds, would meet me on equal grounds of forbearance and 
toleration y 

It has been said in justification of the treatment 
that Dr. Pinkerton received, that he had been very 
bitter and extreme during the war. It is not true 
as a matter of fact, and as a reason it is manifestly 
absurd. Suppose he had been off South as a sur- 
geon in the Confederate army, as ardent a rebel as 
he had been a Union man, does any man imagine 
for one moment that, on coming back with shat- 



82 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

tered health, he would have been ignored and slighted 
in the Kentucky churches, and particularly in the 
Lexington church ? No. He would have been 
received with ovations, and hailed with delight as an 
apostle of God. 

Whatever may have been the reasons which led 
to his practical exclusion from the Kentucky pulpits, 
be it forever remembered that it was not because he 
had forfeited, by any act of his, a right to the esteem 
and confidence of his fellow-men. After the war, he 
was the same man in all the essential elements of 
his character that he had been in the years prior to 
the war when he pursued his peaceful ministry in 
Midway. He was the same upright, frank, courage- 
ous man of God after he had espoused the cause of 
his country and of the poor, ignorant negro, and was 
so much shunned, that he was when he advocated 
the cause of the Reformation and pleaded for the 
friendless girl, and crowds hung on his eloquent lips, 
and the hospitable homes of Kentucky welcomed 
him as an honored guest, and sturdy men and jew- 
eled women responded with liberal hands to his 
appeals for the orphan school in Midway. I am con- 
strained to affirm as much of the great mass of his 
brethren in Kentucky. They were essentially the 
same during the years of his strife with them that 
they had been during the years of his peace. Why, 
then, any alienation or^ at least, any permanent alien- 
ation ? In the providence of God, a great issue 
WHS raised ; an issue that could not be suppressed, 
nor postponed, nor evaded ; an issue involving the 
most fun.damental principles and the most startling 
consequences : and Dr. Pinkerton, by instinct, by 



HIS PROSCRIPTION. • 83 

conviction, by education, by reason of his far-seeing 
wisdom, was on one side, and a multitude of his 
brethren in Kentucky were on the other, and a sore 
strife was the inevitable result. 

One reason that made an adjustment difficult, and 
rendered the alienation more permanent, may be 
found in his own intensely truthful and ardent spirit, 
which could not brook long enough for respectful 
consideration and calm reply the paltry excuses by 
which some persons sought to palliate, if not to 
justify, the proscription of which he was the victim. 
He could endure the proscription better than the 
ill-considered explanations and pretenses by which 
quondam friends sought to apologize for it, and even 
in some instances, with singular blindness, to deny 
its reality. 

The strife, too, was rendered agonizing by his 
great affection for the people of Kentucky, especi- 
ally for the Christian brotherhood of the State, and 
by their affection for him ; for it is simple justice to 
say that many of them greatly loved and admired 
him, and yearned even to the last for the restoration 
of a broken fellowship. He sometimes expressed 
surprise at the seeming coolness with which I re- 
ceived the estrangement of brethren in Kentucky. 
The logical convictions and mental prejudices, so to 
speak, which held me to the Reformation were per- 
haps stronger than his ; but I had not, as he had, 
the tenderest heart-ties binding me to the churches 
in Central Kentucky, and to the Orphan School, and 
to a large circle of once pleasant and devoted friends — 
ties, the severance of which seemed to him like the 
vision of death. 



84 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

There was another reason why the alienation was 
the more lasting : Johnson, and Stone, and John 
Rogers, sr., and Morton, the friends of his early 
days, were gone, and new leaders were in their 
places, leaders that knew not Joseph, and did not 
love him as the sleepers had done. It is true that 
A. Raines, and R. C. Ricketts, and John I. Rogers 
were here ; but they, alas ! were no longer princes 
in the councils of our Israel. 

I have no doubt that there would have been more 
anxiety for a cordial reconciliation with Dr. Pinker- 
ton, and a greater effort made to secure it, if some 
of our preachers had not regarded him as ** unsound 
in the faith," "a dangerous man," and on this account 
were, perchance, not wholly averse to seeing his influ- 
ence as a public man crippled by the terrible force 
of Southern prejudice. 

In the controversy, Dr. Pinkerton might have 
been less censorious ; he might have borne with 
more meekness the unmerited aversion of old friends ; 
he might have endured with more patience the loss 
of favor in the churches that he had helped to build ; 
he might have borne with more calmness the weak- 
ness of some of his preaching brethren, who in a 
stormy time yielded to popular clamor for the sake 
of peace. It can not be affirmed that he was a pat- 
tern of Christian meekness under severe provocation. 
On the other hand, it can not be affirmed that the 
brethren arrayed against him gave to the world, in 
their treatment of him, bright examples of ministe- 
rial honor, and courtesy, and courage — of wisdom, 
righteousness, and the fear of God. 

The long strife is ended, and he is safe. How 



HIS FORTITUDE. 85 

much there was in it to try his sensitive spirit — how 
much of care, disappointment, anxiety, want, few 
persons beside myself ever knew. It is a joy to 
know that he met it all with the unconquerable 
spirit of a man whose trust abides evermore in God. 

The struggle was worth all it cost of agony to 
him and his friends; for, in the main, the ends 
which he sought were divine, the policies which he 
opposed were narrow and unwise, and the spirit 
which he labored to cast out was the devil of party 
hate and cruelty. 

He seemed to me in these years of trial as '* the 
voice of one crying in the wilderness," — ofttimes in 
the spirit of the old prophet, ofttimes with painful 
human passion, but still crying for Christ and the 
souls of men. 



86 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Resigns his professorship — Freedman's Bureau — Missionary work — Death 
of Marshall Headly — Death of Dr. Pinkerton's eldest son — Call to 
the presidency of Hiram College — Preaches in Cleveland and Cincin- 
nati. 

ABOUT the first of January, 1866, he resigned his 
professorship in Kentucky University, partly on 
account of the rebel clamor raised against his holding 
the place, and the consequent embarrassment to the 
governing authorities of the University, and partly 
because he believed Regent Bowman desired to see 
him out of the institution. Regent Bowman assures 
me that Dr. Pinkerton mistook him entirely — that 
neither on the ground of policy nor on any other 
ground did he desire his resignation. It is due to 
Mr. Bowman to say that during the whole period of 
Dr. Pinkerton's estrangement from him, though 
deeply pained, he never ceased to cherish for the 
Doctor that sincere admiration and ardent friendship 
that had been born in his early manhood, and had 
waxed stronger and stronger through all the years of 
their close fellowship in labors and cares. 

On the 1 8th of January, 1866, Dr. Pinkerton was 
appointed agent for the Freedman's Bureau in 
Fayette County. He accepted this position in the 
hope that he might be able to act as a mediator be- 
tween the blacks and their old masters, and thus ac- 
complish something like missionary work. The 



DOWN-HEARTED. 8/ 

averted faces, the angry glances, the unkind speeches 
of old acquaintances, and the Nicodemus-like visits 
of timid friends soon discovered to him the savage 
fierceness of the prejudice that he had challenged 
when he undertook this '* bureau " business. Finding 
that he could not execute his official trust without 
force, and that the revenues of the office were to be 
raised in part at least by imposition on the poor ne- 
groes who sought its protection, he resigned. 

He now determined to make an attempt at direct 
missionary work among the negroes, and to appeal to 
noble-minded men in the North for assistance. 
Among others, the Phillips brothers, of Newcastle, 
Penn., then in affluence, generously responded to 
his appeal. 

The following letter reveals his agony of spirit, 
and at the same time his tried but triumphant faith 
and unshaken purpose at this most gloomy and de- 
pressing period of his life : 

'' Lexington, Ky., Feb. 22, 1866. 

'' My Dear Brother Shackleford : — I could not see 
you in Cincinnati this week as you desired, tliough anxious 
enough to do so. I suppose Brother Henderson is still 
with you, and if so he will please consider this as ad- 
dressed to him also. 

*' The clouds gather thick over my head, gather close 
about me, and pour their chilling treasures on my naked 
heart, but I am not moved ; here I am determined to 
fight my battle to its close, whether in victory or defeat. 
The end is not very far off. I am quite alone to-night, 
every member of my family being absent, and while I sit 
by my fire and think of the days that are gone, and of all 
the dear friends and tender hopes that have gone with 
them, I am subdued and s.uldemMl. 
8 



88 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

I am compelled to ask myself, what end has my poor life 
served ? The very men for whom I have done most, or 
tried to do most, are the men who have shown themselves 
readiest to traduce me. and who most heartily rejoice at 
my misfortmies and embarrassments. It is not always 
possible for me to feel that I have done well. I some- 
times think, when faith falters, that I have pretty much 
thrown my life away. Who, after all, is converted ? In 
whom dwells the life of God ? Had I not better have 
pursued my cherished profession, made money, and been 
a respectable man ? It is too late now to redeem errors so 
long past. There is no health in such nieditations, and I 
remand them to the shades. I know^ the fuiure promises a 
healing for our sore hearts, a compensation for all possible 
sorrows and disappointments. 

" ' But who can so forecast the years, 
To find in loss a gain to match, 
Or reach the hand through time to catch 
The far-oif interest of tears ? ' 

^^ I wrote a long letter to Brother Pliillipb last night, in- 
tending to send it to him. I gave him an account of the 
nature of the work proposed — its difficulties, prospects, 
etc., thinking it best that he should know all this in ad- 
vance. On reflection^ however, I sent it to Bro. Errett, 
•with an explanatory note. I shall await their reply. I go 
down to Midway on Saturday next to meet there all our 
negro preachers that can be gotten together there and 
then. I wish to find all within fifty or sixty miles of this 
place as soon as possible. In the present temper of Ken- 
tuckians, I fear nothing can be done. I shall be com- 
pelled to proceed cautiously; especially in Woodford 
County, and still more especially in Midway, my old 
home, a village into all the houses of which I was accus- 
tomed to enter in times of distress for the space of sixteen 
years. That is the home of certain old friends of mi;.e , 



DEATH OF MARSHALL HEADLY. ' 89 

who never talk politics except to abuse the United States 
government. Did you ever notice the fact that no amount 
of abuse of the government by our rebel brethren is ever 
considered as * talking politics ? Such is the fact. But 
if }ou denounce the rebellion or vindicate the govern- 
ment — Miands off!' you are talking politics. They arc 
under the power of a strong delusion, or they are a set of 
unsanctified scoundrels— I believe the former. 

*' Give my sincere regards to sister S. and to ^ Jack.' 
^' Ever yours in Jesus, L. L. Pinkerton." 

In July, 1866, Dr. Pinkerton met a great loss in 
the death of his cherished friend, Marshall Headly. 
It is in every way proper that the name of a man 
so dear to Dr. Pinkerton should find tender mention 
in these Memoirs. Dr. Pinkerton dedicated a pub- 
lished discourse to his memory in the * follov^ing 
beautiful words : 

'' To the memory of Marshall Headly, late of Allen- 
dale, Jessamine County, Kentucky, I dedicate the follow- 
ing discourse. Between him and the writer there was a 
substantial agreement on all the great issues of the civil 
war, and especially on the subjects treated in tlie address, 
which were often and anxiously discussed during the last 
year of his life. 

** A thoughtful man, but never in haste to speak, he in- 
cessantly pondered in his heart the great issues of the ter- 
rible conflict, and though sorrowful always, and at times 
desponding, he never fliltered in stern loyalty to his gov- 
ernment, nor to his race; or in fealty to his Saviour. 

*' Of ample fortune, yet despising the social considcja- 
tion which men are too apt to claim on that ground alone, 
he was, to the last, the friend and intimate companion oi 
the poorest of men. 



90 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

'^Making no pretension to learning, his knowledge of 
men, of society, and of all the graver affairs of human 
life was wide, intimate, and accm*ate. His habit of utter- 
ing the most matured opinions in the interrogative form, 
as though he would inquire rather than affirm, did not 
conceal from his intimate friends his just confidence in the 
general correctness of the conclusions he had reached. 

'^ In the constant exercise of a most generous hospital- 
ity, and though in the fifty-ninth year of his age, he had 
the happy faculty of making himself agreeable to the 
young of both sexes, and his usually quiet country home 
was for them a chosen place of gathering. Alas ! we 
shall see him on earth no more. At a time when we ex- 
pected it not — in July, 1866 — the Destroyer came, and our 
cherished, most constant friend, passed away. 

^^Our sorrows may be soothed by the firm belief that 
another tired spirit has found rest in heaven, and we may 
seek to assuage our grief by the hope of meeting him 
there when the dream of life is past; but we shall not 
think of our great loss without sighing, nor cease to feel 
that for our riven hearts there is no per fed healing this 
side of the tomb. 

^* Farewell ^ Marshall.' The remains of men have been 
followed to the grave by more weepers than followed 
thine, but none by truer, sadder hearts, and of those 
bleeding hearts few were 77iore hopelessly crushed than was 
his who now I'ays this humble but tear-hallowed tribute of 
affection on thy grave." 

On Christmas day, 1866, the shadow of death fell 
on his own hearthstone. His eldest son, William, 
died of heart disease, in a buggy, on his way from 
Richmond, Ky., to Lexington. The following touch- 
ing letter tells the story of the strong man's sorrow 
and hope : 



DEATH OF HIS SON. QI 

'^Lexington, Ky., January 21, 1867. 
^' John Shackleford : 

^'My Dear Brothei" : — I would have acknowledged 
your kind, characteristic letter of the 12th inst. sooner, 
but I have been much engaged ; besides, I have not felt 
that I could write till now. My wife joins me in expres- 
sions of thankfulness to you and Sister Shackleford for 
your sympathies with us in our great sorrow — the greatest 
of our lives. This sorrow has engulfed many less ones, as 
all shadows but one disappear when the sky is all overcast 
with clouds and no rainbow is possible. Still we are not 
without consolation. There are rifts in the cloud that has 
settled down around us, by which we know that behind it 
' is the sun still shining.^ From all we can learn, the re- 
pentance of our poor son was as sincere as his reformation 
was unquestionable, and hence we hope to meet him again 
one day. 

'' We are comforted, too, by the circumstance that we 
received him a few hours after his death, and were able to 
give to his poor body a decent burial. 1 wiped his cold, 
calm, beautiful face with my own hands, and composed 
his stiffening limbs in their last repose. I knew that it 
would have been his wish that I should perform for him 
these sad offices; and, indeed, there was a strange fasci- 
nation for me in the marble face of my noble-hearted boy. 
I gently pushed up his thin eyelids, and his beautiful blue 
eyes seemed to look out at me so calmly and lovingly that 
I could hardly feel that he was indeed dead. He was com- 
ing over to have some Christmas ' at home ' — for he had 
become a child again — and had loaded his buggy with all 
imaginable provisions for his mother's table, besides 
various sorts of little presents for different members of the 
family. His mother had his dinner ' keeping warm ' for 
him, each moment expecting him, when a small scrap 
of paper was handed me from Sam. It began — ^ Pa, 
Willie is dead.' Well, my dear brother, I havr written 



92 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

this for your wife, and hardly know why I should have 
done so. I will only add that he died instantly, seem- 
ingly without pain, and that there was not the slightest 
distortion of any single feature of his face. His child- 
widow is here with us. 

*' ' Beyond the parting and the meeting, 
Beyond the farewell and the greeting, 
We shall be soon.' 

^' Ever yours, L. L. Pinkerton." 

During the summer of 1867, he delivered a course 
oi lectures to a class in the Biblical Institute of 
Hiram College. Upon the conclusion of the course, 
he was tendered, in most flattering terms, the presi- 
dency of the college. He was disposed to accept 
the offer, but his great desire to remain in Kentucky, 
and here to fight his battle to the close, determined 
him to decline. 

In 1868, he preached for some time in East Cleve- 
land, and subsequently in the same year for the 
church on the corner of Eighth and Walnut Streets, 
in Cincinnati, Ohio, during Bro. W. T. Moore's ab- 
sence in Europe. 



INDEPENDENT MONTHLY 93 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The "Independent Monthly" — PersonaHties — Editor of "Standard" — 
Blood-raw politics — The Louisville plan — Perpetual motion. 

IN the fall of 1868, Dr. Pinkerton and the writer 
issued the prospectus of the Independent MontJiIyy 
and in January, 1869, the first number appeared. 
The Monthly was a double protest — ist, against 
the political proscriptive spirit which at that time 
held sway in the churches of Kentucky ; 2d, against 
a fierce sectarianism and intolerant dogmatism 
which had grown up among the Disciples. But the 
Independent Monthly was something more than a pro- 
test— 7/ was most devoutly consecrated to the discus- 
sion of every question that enters into the divifie idea 
of a true and righteous life. 

It was a thoroughly honest and fearless journal. 
Its editors did not regulate their conduct as Christian 
teachers, by the utterances of complacent dogmatism, 
nor hold in abeyance their deep convictions of 
redeeming truth from fear of being considered 
"unsound." 

In my deliberate opinion, Dr. Pinkerton's contri- 
butions to the Independent Montlily, in depth of 
thought, in fervor and fearlessness of spirit, in felicit- 
ous expression, have not been surpassed, scarcely 
equaled, by any other literature of the Reformation. 

The ability and manly independence with whicli 



94 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

the Independent MontJily was edited was universally 
recognized, but the paper was severely criticised for 
its caustic personalities. Dr. Pinkerton held with 
Alexander Pope, that to oppose principles without 
attacking men, though safe, is yet but fighting 
shadows. He felt, too, that he had unjustly been per- 
sonally attacked and injured, both on account of his 
political convictions and of his religious opinions, and 
that as a necessary means of self-defense, he had a 
right to show up the spirit and purpose of his perse- 
cutors. It is but just to him to give his own defense 
against this charge of '' personalities." He says : 

''Personalities. — Some object to the Independent 
Monthly on account of what they call its 'personalities,^ 
and about this feature of our paper we deem it expedient 
to say a few words. 

" I. It is not more personal than ' our' papers generally, 
but it does not deal in i7isiniiations — it speaks out. The 
Ame7'ican Christian Review, has abounded in personalities 
of the species — mean insinuation. This has been one of 
its prominent characteristics. In 1867, more than two 
years ago, its editor wrote and published /;/ one, article, 
eight or nine distinct falsehoods with respect to the writer 
of these lines, yet without naming him; and when the in- 
jured party sought redress through the columns of the Re- 
view, he was informed that he could not be heard by the 
readers of that paper. But ' our people ' regard nothing 
as personal so long as no person is named. We hold a 
different theory of the subject. 

"2. The New Testament abounds in personalities. Men 
and women too, are named, both in commendation and in 
censure. No objections are made to the publication of the 
most fulsome, personal flatteries, and strings of eulogistic 
resolutions are passed by churches and published by those 



PERSONALITIES. 95 

who suppose their reputation needs them, and all is well. 
But let some demagogical tricks be exposed, some instance 
of pandering to the godless desires of a sensual member- 
ship be spoken of, some case of flagrant betrayal of holy 
and eternal principle be pointed out, and each exposure be 
pointed by — 'thou art the man,' and then the work be- 
comes ' personal * at once. 

**3. No honest man dreads 'personalities * so long as 
the truth only is spoken. Besides, no man who ventures 
to occupy a public relation to society has any right to 
claim exemption from the severest inquisition into his 
character and motives. Yes, we say motives. Especially 
is this true of preachers, teachers, and editors of religious 

periodicals The question in all matters 

involving character, is not, is the statement personal, but 
is it true ? ' ' 

I thought at the time, however, and so told him, 
that the fierceness with which he carried on his war 
injured him and his cause ; embittered his enemies 
and alarmed his timid friends. While his direct per- 
sonal attacks were justified, in most instances, by the 
course certain parties had pursued towards him and 
the cause he pleaded, it is doubtless true that he was 
too indiscriminate, and frequently too severe in his 
assaults — especially his bitter personal war on the 
editor of the Christian Standard can not be justified. 
He esteemed the editor of the Standard an accom- 
plished man of genius — the first preacher of the 
Reformation ; but the Staiidard itself, a tame, cow- 
ardly sheet. He expected direct help from it in his 
effort to sustain himself in the face of a godless pol- 
itical proscription in Kentucky. He expected brave, 
incautious words. He was disappointed. l>ut what 
seemed to Dr. Pinkerton a time-serving policy on the 
9 



96 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

part of the editor of the Staiidardy was not, I am 
persuaded, a betrayal of principle nor an abandon- 
ment of the men who had a right to expect his sup- 
port in the hour of trial ; but, was the exercise of a 
Christian expediency, by which in a dark and cloudy 
day, he sought without serious offense to any member 
of the Church of God, to save souls, to lift up the 
poor, and to secure law, order, and liberty throughout 
the land. A bolder course than the editor of the 
Sta7idard pursued might have been more strikingly 
admirable, but it might have been far less fruitful of 
good, I know not, and I will not judge. Clearly, too, 
Dr. Pinkerton had no right to class the editor of the 
Standard \^\t\i his bitter personal opponents, for of all 
the men whom Dr. Pinkerton opposed or who opposed 
him, not one other was so uniformly kind, just, hon- 
orable and considerate in his treatment of him as 
Elder Isaac Errett. 

Conceding all that a just criticism demands, I still 
unite with Dr. Pinkerton in the following sentiment : 

'* We do not fear that our children will ever blush for 
their fathers, whether they consider the ends we sought to 
attain, or the means by which we sought their attainment. 
Some copies of the Independent Monthly^ Volume I, will 
for a time survive, and as its pages are turned, the reader 
will say this at least : ' These men were in earnest, and loyal 
to their convictions of truth, and of duty to their country 
and to their race.' '* 

Blood-raw Politics. — In the year 1869, a negro 
man suddenly died in a field adjoining Dr. Pinkerton's 
garden. This circumstance gave birth to a very pas- 
sionate and pathetic editorial from his pen. The 



BLOOD-RAW POLITICS. 9/ 

Cincinnati Enquirer^ in the following heartless para- 
graph, noticed this death : 

^' Stolen pork seems to be rather a fatal complaint to 
Kentucky darkies. A few days ago one was choked to 
death by a bag full of stolen hog, and now another Cuffee 
has been found dead near Nicholasville. He had a bag 
swung round his neck, and in which was [were] a large 
butcher-knife and a hatchet, the implements generally used 
by hog thieves. It appears by the inquest, that the negro 
had stumbled and fallen on the knife, and that it had pen- 
etrated his heart.'' 

After a terrible arraignment of the Enquirer for 
the course it pursued during the war, Dr. Pinkerton 
says : 

''Of this last sad case, we know nothing, and with the 
single remark that the stumbling and the stabbing were of 
a most unusual and extraordinary character, such as, it is 
likely, never occurred before, we dismiss it. The poor 
man said to have been ' choked to death by a bag full of 
stolen hog,' was found dead only a bow-shot away from 
the quiet, peaceful home in which we are now writing. A 
man of family, considerably past the meridian of life, he 
had spent the day, about three miles from Lexington, in 
chopping wood. After night-fall he killed a hog, cut it 
into six pieces, strung these on a strong strap, and with the 
strap across his shoulders, as is supposed, and carrying 
his ax and bucket, he made his way to within a quarter of 
a mile of his humble home. A fresh-plowed field that 
bounds our garden on one side, had to be crossed. On 
coming to this, and being weary with the labor of the day, 
and by the evil work of the night, he divided his burden, 
carried the one-half across the field, laid it down, and was 
returning for the other, when, from some cause, he fell 



98 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

backward and died. And when the morning broke again 
over our beautiful earth, there he lay, across the newly- 
turned furrows, cold in death, with his poor, black face 
turned up to the sky. Sad sight enough for the young 
people who went out in the early morning to witness it. 
From that weary body, in the depth of the stilly night, a 
sinful human soul, for which Jesus died, had passed out 
and away into the infinite abyss, with no watchers but 
the stars, and him who appointed their goings. 

'^ Under any circumstances, the death of a human being 
is a great solemnity ; but to die alone and abroad in the 
night, with the evidences of theft all about one, is unspeak- 
ably appalling. Not unlikely, a thousand darker deeds 
than hog-stealing were perpetrated that very night in the 
cities of Cincinnati and New York, by the wealthy and the 
wise, and in the midst of what is called elegance and re- 
finement — deeds that will never be heard of till ' the 
Books are opened. ' Poor Martin ! he had been reared 
in the Kentucky negro cabin of forty years ago, amidst 
darkness and din. He had passed his day?^ in sight of 
luxuries, the fruit of his own toil, but which were not for 
him ; and, stimulated by strong desire, and tantalized by 
the nearness of the coveted enjoyment, he became a thief, 
and a thief he died. To him the lettered page was all un- 
known, nor had the glorious light of science gilded even 
the borders of his dark spirit. Left to welter in the muck 
of low and sensual desire, his life was a failure, and his 
death sorrowful, tragical enough. God is just ; God is 
merciful ; and so it is, we would prefer to stand in the judg- 
ment with the negro thief, rather than with him who wrote 
the text of this arcicle, or with those who approve its tone 
and spirit ; for it shall be more tolerable for some in the 
day of judgment than for others, though against both the 
one party and the other the gates of heaven may be for- 
ever closed.*' 



THE LOUISVILLE PLAN. 99 

The Louisville Plan. — There is another event 
of 1869, which deserves record and for which I may 
not find a more appropriate place. Dr. Pinkerton 
attended, in the fall of this year, the Missionary Con- 
vention of the Disciples, in Louisville, Kentucky. 
Almost alone he opposed in that meeting the cum- 
brous arrangement since known as the ** Louisville 
Plan " of co-operation. He offered as a substitute a 
well-matured scheme of his own, which was uncere- 
moniously voted down, as he had expected. He urged 
that final action on the motion to adopt the '' Louis- 
ville Plan " should be postponed for one year. This 
he did, not in the spirit of ''factious opposition" to 
the wishes of the brotherhood, as was gratuitously 
charged at the time, " but from a settled conviction 
that its adoption would indefinitely postpone the 
organization of the churches " — a work which he de- 
clared to be essential, in his judgment, to the success 
of the Reformation Anticipating the action of the 
Louisville meeting, he foretold, in an amusing way, 
its entire failure to secure the end proposed. He 
said : 

** We hope that brother Munnell will get on with his 
new machine, as far, at least as * brother Peterson' did 
with his 'perpetual motion.* Forty-five years ago, we 
were privileged to see occasionally, and even to hear, a 
gentleman from the Rhineland, who, it was said, had been 
with Napoleon in Egypt — had seen a crocodile, and the 
Pyramids, and that on a march once, in great extremity, 
had actually drank blood. He kept a smithy among the 
hills, not far from Bethany, West Virginia, and made 
bridle-bits, dividers, butcher-knives, etc. But ' brother 
Peterson ' felt that his genius was equal to something larger 



lOO LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

than this, and so he set himself to make a ^ perpetual mo- 
tion.' A brother meeting him one day, after months had 
been spent on the machine, said to him : ' Well, brother 
Peterson, how does your perpetual motion come on ? * 
* He koomch on petty veil,' replied brother Peterson; 
' I'sh got him so as he vill go mit a grank,^ I do not, in- 
deed, see any ' crank ' about brother Munnell's machine, 
nor any place for a crank, but the St. Louis Committee 
will perhaps have one ready by the time of the Louisville 
meeting, and we shall have the pleasure of seeing it put 
on. In advance, I beg to offer condolence to the man 
who shall attempt to turn it. He will find two cranks 
needful, and that there will be most disastrous *back 
action.' We go, nevertheless, for an evangelical perpetual 
motion, even if it must be made to go *mit a grank,' and 
though its back-action should knock over the committee 
of twenty, -' chairman ^ and all, the first revolution.'* 



CHARGES PREFERRED AGAINST HIM. lOI 



C.HAfTER XV. 

Letter to church at Harrodsburg — Reply — Charges of Lexington El- 
ders — Remarks. 

IN the year 1870, the elders of the Lexington 
church, being moved in spirit to take some eccle- 
siastical action against Dr. Pinkerton, wrote to the 
elders of the Harrodsburg church to ascertain 
whether Dr. Pinkerton was still a member of that 
church and amenable to their authority. Dr. Pinker- 
ton, hearing of this action, immediately wrote the 
following letter : 

''Lexington, Ky., Nov. 28, 1870. 
*' To the Elders of the Church of Christy in Harrods- 
burg, Ky. : 
''Brethren : — In the summer of 1865, 1 was regularly 
* dismissed by letter ' from the congregation over which 
you preside. For reasons which I deem it inexpedient 
now to detail, I have not formally taken membership in 
any other congregation, and still hold your letter of com- 
mendation. In conformity to the custom established 
among the churches of the Reformation, I acknowledge 
your official jurisdiction over me. Therefore, should any 
parties prefer charges against me involving my moral or 
religious character, I request that you will entertain them 
and cite me to appear before you and answer to the 
charges. I have to request, further, that you will allow this 
note to go to record. 

" I am truly, yours L. L. Pinkerton.** 



I02 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

['* P. S. — It will be expected, as a matter of course, that 
any charges to which I may be called to answer shall be 
written ; that a copy of the charges will be furnished me, 
and that I shall have due and timely notice of the time 
and place of trial. L. L. P."] 

To the foregoing he received the following re- 
sponse : 

*' Harrodsburg, Ky., Dec. lo, 1870. 

'' Dear Doctor : — Your letter addressed to the elders 
of the church at Harrodsburg, was duly received by me 
and laid before them. 

^' We have this day, in reply to an inquiry from one of 
the elders of the church at Lexington, stated : 

*^ That, without expressing any judgment as to the 
scriptural authority or the expediency of the rule which 
they seem to have adopted in the matter of chzerch letters ^ 
we do not feel at liberty, in view of your own request, to 
decline hearing any charges that may be properly brought 
against you ; provided, the charges shall be of a nature to 
involve your moral or religious character. 

'^ Fraternally, Jno. Aug. Williams.'* 

The way seemed now opened for the trial of ' Dr. 
Pinkerton, which the Lexington elders appeared to 
covet. Accordingly, early in the year 1871, they 
forwarded to the elders of the church in Harrods- 
burg quite a lengthy document^ charging that " Bro. 
Pinker ton's conduct for several years appeared to us 
(elders of the Lexington church) to be of a schis- 
matic character, and calculated to create and keep up 
strife and division in the body of Christ." 

The specifications under these charges consisted 
of citations from his published utterances, and of the 
statements that he had for years held a letter from 



CHARGES SPECIFIED. IO3 

the Harrodsburg church, and declined to unite with 
another congregation, and that he claimed to belong 
to the church universal, and to be responsible to no 
particular congregation, and that he had preached 
for persons excluded from a sister church. After 
sending on their document containing charges 
against the Doctor, made out in regular technical 
form, the elders of the Lexington church very 
strangely, through one of their number, informed the 
elders of the Harrodsburg church ** That the object 
of our (Lexington elders) communication of the 15th 
inst. was simply to furnish you with the information 
which it contains in the hope that you would take 
such action in the premises as the Scriptures re- 
quire.'* Upon the reception of this communication, 
the elders of the Harrodsburg church adopted the 
following resolutions : 

/* Resolved^ i. That we do not feel authorized by the 
Scriptures, nor by any rule of expediency known to us, to 
do any thing at present in reference to the communica- 
tion of the elders of the church at Lexington, dated Feb. 
15, 1 87 1, save to forward a copy of the same to Bro. L. 
L. Pinkerton, and to file said communication, together 
with his reply, should he see proper to make one, among 
the records and papers of this congregation. - 

*' Resolved, That a copy of this resolution be forwarded 
to the church at Lexington, and also to Bro. L. L. Pin- 
kerton/' 

The Doctor filed no reply to the charges ; indeed, 
they needed none. The Lexington elders had by 
their course arraigned themselves before the Har- 
rodsburg elders, and were in a very quiet way 
shelved, as they deserved to be. 



I04 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

It is due to the memory of a good man now gone 
to his rest, to note just here that Dr. Joseph Smith, 
at that time one of the elders of the Lexington 
church, declined all participation in this petty busi- 
ness to which several others, as I think, unwittingly 
lent themselves. 

Dr. Pinkerton said that when he first saw the in- 
dictment made out against him he thought of the 
great Irish agitator, Daniel O'Connell. When he 
looked at his indictment, which was about ten feet 
long, he said that he would rather plead guilty than 
read it. After getting well into the thing, however, 
he found it such capital reading, especially the ex- 
tracts from his own papers in the Independent 
Monthly, that he regretted its brevity. He said, 
** that when Theodore Hook, in the old days of the 
English Test Oath, was asked if he could swear to 
the XXXIX articles, replied', * Certainly, with all my 
heart ; I am only sorry there is not more of them.' 
So I can say I fully indorse all the extracts from the 
Monthly save one,* and regret that our zealous elders 
did not go more largely into the work.'' He said, 
furthermore, that if the Lexington bishops had called 
on him for assistance he could have gotten up a 
much stronger case against himself; and that if they 



*The one exception is as follows : In the October number of the 
*< Independent Monthly," he had used the name of "Judas Iscar- 
iot " in connection with the name of Elder Robert Graham. If 
he had replied to the charges of the elders at all, it was his pur- 
pose to retract the ** Judas Iscariot " absolutely. He said, " It 
might justly be presumed that I intended to charge Elder Graham 
with acting from mercenary motives. Such was not my purpose. 
Had I used the name Simon Peter instead of Judas Iscariot, my 
meaning would have been better expressed." 



MAKES NO ANSWER. IO5 

would still apply to him, that he would furnish them 
with some additional valuable counts to their indict- 
ment, and be at charges with them in printing and 
circulating them. It was not because he disregarded 
or lightly esteemed a righteous and merciful church 
discipHne that he spoke thus contemptuously of the 
indictment drawn against him, but because be es- 
teemed the whole affair a farce, meant for a tragedy, 
in which he was to suffer a kind of ecclesiastical de- 
capitation in pursuance of a cherished purpose of 
some, but not all, of the elders of the Lexington 
church. 

He has left behind him a serious and most vigor- 
ous answer to the charges, and a characteristic ar- 
raignment of the men whom he believed to have' 
been his persecutors as well as prosecutors ; but in 
view of the failure of the Harrodsburg church to 
consider the charges^ — and as his warfare is ended, 
and ended in peace with most, if not all, of the 
elders — I do not think it necessary either to his vin- 
dication, or to the vindication of truth, to give his 
reply to the world. I withhold nothing, however, 
out of any charity to him, for in his reply he has met 
the whole miserable business with characteristic 
courage and fideUty — with straightforward, manly 
candor. 



I06 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Heresies — Organization — Immersion and Church Membership — Inspira- 
tion — Bob Lawson — Bridget O'Flanegan. 

DR. PIXKERTON though he was a zealous 
preacher of the Reformation, and devoted the 
best years of his life to its ministry, was accounted 
by some of his brethren — especially some of his 
preaching brethren — as '' unsound," and by those of 
them who were ''above proof, a little too sound at 
times," he was esteemed a dangerous heretic. This 
fate would have happened to him in any denomina- 
tion of which he might have been a member, for his 
individuality was so marked and his candor so thor- 
ough, that it would not have been possible for him 
to compress either his opinions or his utterances 
into the fixed molds of any party, even though he 
had held its distinctive teachings with a more in- 
telligent faith than many a brother of fully accred- 
ited orthodoxy. 

I do not propose in this chapter to discuss the 
truth or error of his alleged heresies, but as a mat- 
ter of impartial history to allow him to state, in his 
own language and with his own illustrations, the 
opinions which many of his brethren believed to be 
heretical and of evil tendency.* 

^ The editor has not thought it necessary in this chapter to note 
specially either his dissent from Dr. Pinkerton or his agreement with 
him. 

In recording those controversies of Dr. Pinkerton, however, in 



HIS HERESY ON CHURCH ORGANIZATION. lO/ 

First. His heresy concerning cimrch organization. 

In 1854, he published in the Christian Age an 
article defining his position on the question of church 
organization. The following extract fairly sets forth 
his heresy on this question. It needs no comment: 

'^ It is then, and long has been our conviction, that the 
Presbyterian organization is Scriptural and expedient. 
We believe that every church should have a plurality of 
elders, one of which should be a preacher, in the popular 
meaning of the term. We believe that a company of 
baptized believers, united together to keep the command- 
ments of God, with her elders and deacons — one or more 
of the elders being given wholly to the work of preaching 
and teaching — constitutes a church of Christ. Beyond this, 
we know of no church organization, that is, we can dis- 
cover no plan of denominational organization in the sa- 
cred Scriptures. If such plan be there, it is hard to find. 
Yet we believe in the co-operation of the churches, that 
they ought to co-operate, that they ;;2^^/ co-operate, or ex- 
pire. Co-operation involves organization; there can be 
no regular, constant co-operation without organization, 
and there can be no organization without plan. There 
may be spasms and fits, but no regular, productive action. 
Now we believe, all things duly considered, the Presby- 
terian plan of co-operation, through presbyteries and 
synods, the best extant. They, the Presbyterians, have, 
as we think, embarrassed their general organization, by 
attempting to deduce it from the sacred Scriptures. 
This is unfortunate. Having the congregational organiza- 
tion, according to the New Testament, my opinion is, 
that the churches are left at liberty to adopt such a plan 



which tlie writer was himself personaUy involved, he has felt it due 
himself to indicate explicitly his own views, but in other instances 
he has not been careful to do ^o. 



I08 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

of co-operation as shall seem best adapted to secure the 
ends meditated by the co-operation. Now from all the 
lights before us, we esteem the Presbyterian plan of pro- 
ceeding in all denominational matter, the best. This is 
all — * this is the head and front of our offending/ Thus 
the churches of a county or a larger district, would co- 
operate through her elders, and if any one chooses, her 
deacons too, and the whole State would co-operate through 
the same officers. 

** Our co-operation meeting would not be to be 
drummed up every year, and in constant danger of dying 
from neglect. No argument is intended. Nothing be- 
yond a simple statement of a few convictions on this 
vexed question. If any one dislikes the notion, he need 
not adopt it, or in any wise trouble himself about it. I 
have no idea of writing. It is not given me to accom- 
plish any thing in this direction. There is a species of 
demagogism practiced in treating this subject, of which I 
can not allow myself to speak. The greatest little ty- 
rants I have known have been the greatest sticklers 
for what they call the independence of churches. No 
person known to us, desires to interfere with the inde- 
pendence of the churches. But I have done." 

Second. His heresy on ^^No immersion— no mem- 
bership in a church of the Reformation!' 

In the Christian Standard of 1873, he published 
a series of articles on the foregoing subject. The 
introductory paragraphs of the first article sets forth 
his heretical opinion, and I submit it without note 
or comment. 



NO IMMERSION— NO MEMBERSHIP IN A CHURCH OF 
THE REFORMATION. 

*' I desire to say a few things to the public through the 
columns of the Christian Standard^ in relation to the judg- 



HIS HERESY ON CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. IO9 

ment expressed in the heading of this article. I should 
feel obliged if the editor of the Standard, dind its thought- 
ful readers, would suspend judgment and delay, reply or 
criticism, till I shall have said what I deem necessary to a 
fair exposition of my views on the subject. 

** I shall not aim at stately diction, or polished periods, 
but at plam talk, the rather ; that is to say, I shall try to 
write as I would talk to an intelligent and earnest brother, 
whose confidence I supposed myself to possess, in fair 
degree. 

** I am aware of the perils I incur by allowing myself 
even to conjecture that it might, in any case, be expedient 
and right to receive any one into a church of the Refor- 
mation without immersion. Not a few zealots would hear 
with more composure, and in a spirit of much larger tol- 
eration, that I was a habitual drunkard — that I had very 
little regard for truthfulness — that, in a word, I held very 
loosely by the Decalogue generally, than that I would 
consent to receive into the church a very good man or 
woman, without immersion. I do not write a line for this 
class of saints. I neither supplicate their favor, nor dep- 
recate their displeasure. Being free by the love of truth, 
I can do well without the former ; being simply a ma7i, 
I can not fear the latter. 

** Once more : I wish what I may say on this subject to 
be regarded in the light of conjecture, somewhat — as in- 
timating a possible solution of a most serious and perplex- 
ing problem, and not as indicating fully settled convic- 
tions. 

** For more than thirty years I have been annoyed by 
the following question: Would you receive into a church 
of which you were the pastor, a good man without re- 
quifing him to be immersed? I used to answer the 
question by saying that I would decide the question when 
ilie case should arise in the course of my ministry. 1 
con^taluly felt, however, that the reply was evasive ai^.d 



no LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

cowardly ; and never made it without feeling a certain 
contempt for myself. ' Why not/ some one may ask — 
^ why not answer with an emphatic no ? ' Let the inter- 
rogator exercise a little patience and a good deal of manly 
candor, and it may appear, that, according to ' the prin- 
ciples of this Reformation,' no is not the fittest answer to 
the question. Latterly I have answered the question 
affirmatively, giving the following reasons for my decision, 
and insisting on the following limitations : 

•' [. My affirmative answer assumes that the unimmersed 
person applying for membership is a member of some 
Christian community, and of acknowledged piety — one 
known to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly 
with God. 

*' 2. The proposed action in the case assumes that the 
congregation in which the unimmersed seeks membership 
is like-minded with the pastor. This second condition is 
made intensely emphatic, for the reason that very few- 
questions of expediency will justify any one in so pressing 
them as to cause dissension, strife, and division in a con-. 
gregation of disciples. However much a church may be 
suffering from unwise administration, it will be sure to 
suffer more from an attempt at change which can be ef- 
fected only by strife, angry debate, and alienation of 
heart. The first may be disease, the last is, generally, 
death. 

" It may not be improper to interject a few lines in 
this connection, purely personal, by way of emphasis. 

•• Well, then, I have not in the whole course of my 
church life, extending through more than forty-two years, 
allowed myself to be drawn into what I call a church row 
— never once, either as principal or accessory. I have 
submitted to personal wrong a thousand times — to insult 
from men of smallest stature intellectual; I have a thou- 
sand times witnessed, in quiet, church performances that 
appeared to me to be irrational, unscriptural, ridiculous. 



HIS HERESY ON CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. Ill 

or absurd ; and I have in a great many instances, listened 
to pulpit ' instructions ' that I regarded as empty non- 
sense, not always of the harmless sort. And, had I forty- 
two years of church life yet to live, I should continue to 
do in this respect as I have done. There are men in 
almost every church — fewer of them now than twenty 
years ago — who can not rest if every thing, great or 
small, is not adjusted with exactness to their individual 
notions of propriety. They would smash a church on the 
matter of difference between ^breaking the loaf in the 
morning or in the evening ; or about the propriety of 
singing or not singing during the contribution. This is as 
if a man should set fire to his dwelling and burn up prop- 
erty, and wife, and children together, in order to get rid 
of a rat's nest, and after all, perhaps the rat's nest was 
merely supposititious. The New Testament is not a code 
of cast-iron laws for trembling slaves ; but a rule of life 
for loving children — not a hole through a granite rock, 
through which fools and Pharisees are required to crawl 
on all-fours, but the ' King's high-way,' on which rational 
beings with free spirits, and with their heads towards the 
stars, are called to walk. But to return. 

*^3. By the proposed action in regard to one asking 
membership in the church without immersion, I would 
escape some serious embarrassments and inconsistencies. 

^^ a. I would not disallow the right of private judgment 
in a matter of conscience, that is to say, I would not make 
concurrence in my views of a positive ordinance essential 
to membership. The problem which I propose thus to 
solve, may not admit of such a method of sohition. That 
it is pressed on all sides by grave difficulties, I frankly ad- 
mit ; yet, as long as I profess to believe in the divine 
right of private judgment in questions of religious fiiith 
and practice, I shall feel constrained to act consistently 
with that profession. 

**In receiving into a congregation of disciples one who 
lO 



112 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

had not been immersed, I should endeavor to deal very 
frankly with him. I should probably say to him some- 
thing like this : ' I do not think you have been baptized, 
and when, hereafter, you shall hear me teach baptism you 
will hear me teach immersion, and when you shall see me 
baptize, you will see me immerse, for, according to my 
understanding of the Scriptures, baptism and immersion 
are the same. You think differently and tell me that, on 
that subject, your conscience is at rest. I will not, there- 
fore, thrust my translation of a Greek word between your 
conscience and your God; for, like the rest of us, you 
stand or fall to your own Master. Receive the New Tes- 
tament of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ as the word 
and will of God, and — take heed how you readj* '' 

Third. Conceriii7tg inspiratio7t. 

In the following brief article published in 1869, 
he intimates a theory of inspiration different from 
that generally held by his brethren of the Reforma- 
tion : 

^' After writing a second paper on Bible Inspiration, 
with more care than usual, as was needful, it was felt to 
be inexpedient to proceed with the discussion in the 
pages of a. small monthly. Besides want of space the 
subject would, from necessity, be left, from month to 
month, in such shape as to render possible the most in- 
jurious misconstructions. Should the necessary health 
and leisure be obtained, we will give to our readers, in 
some form, the substance of what we have been able to 
think and learn on the subject. 

*'It is now more than twenty years since we were com- 
pelled to abandon what Neander calls ' the old theory of 
the Plenary Inspiration of the Scriptures/ No book on 
either side of the question had then been read. We have 
not till now felt inipelled by a sense of duty to invite at- 
tention to the subject. The appearance of a late woik by 



"bob" lawson's heresy. 113 

president Milligan — 'Reason and Revelation ' — and its 
general adoption as a text- book in the high schools and 
colleges patronized by the disciples, seem to render a 
somewhat thorough investigation of the question urgently 
needful. Young men who go out to preach the Gospel in 
these days, committed to a theory that requires them to 
believe, and say, and /r^z;<f that the ninth verse of the one 
hundred and thirty-seventh Psalm was inspired by Him 
who hears the cry of the young raven, will be liable, as 
we think, to perpetrate a great many follies in the name 
of the Lord. Moreover, in yielding a theory, the ab- 
surdity of which, as it seems to us, borders on infinity, 
like the Catholic theory of ' the Real Presence in the 
Eucharist ' — a theory that they will assuredly be compelled 
to yield — the danger is that many of them will yield 
their faith also. Hence our solicitude on the subject. 

** Grant us the substantial verity of the Synoptical Gos- 
pels, and the authenticity of Romans and Corinthians, 
and we defy all theories and theorists, and meet them with 
the challenge of the demoniac — ' Jesus I know, and Paul 
I know; but who are you? * To those who would relieve 
themselves from obligations, specifically religious, on ac- 
count of cosmoganies, chronologies, interpolations, and 
what not, we would ask with the emphasis of ten thou- 
sand thunders, were this possible : * What then do you 
propose to do with Jesus, who is called Christ ? ' It is 
more important to know in whom we believe, than what 
theories we believe." 

Fourth. ^^ Bob'' Lazvsons Heresy, 

The reader will note that Bob Lavvson's heresy is 
evidently indorsed by Dr. Pinkerton. I scarcely 
know how to name Bob's heresy. He must explain 
it himself. 

** But the most perplexing case is that of ' Bob ' Lawson, 



1 14 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

who has his membership at Goose Creek. Bob, as we 
familiarly call him, is a good sort of fellow enough ; he 
loves his wife and children, is kind to his neighbors, and 
liberal to the church, as matters go. His reputation for 
honesty in his dealings, and for general truthfulness, is 
perfect ; but his head is full of crotchets. For one thing, 
he is a half-advocate for dancing — that is, he says boldly 
that ^ dancing is no worse than are making and selling 
whisky.' Bob ought to know better — he has been in 
the church long enough to have learned better. Some 
of the brethren think he talks as he does just to annoy 
the elders. He was baptized for the remission of his sins 
years ago, and he now says that, in his opinion, the moral 
precepts of religion are as necessary, as essential to salva- 
tion, as its positive ordinances — that it is as important 
that a man should speak the truth in his heart, that he 
should pay his debts, that he should be gentle and merci- 
ful to the poor, that he should do unto others whatsoever 
he would have others do unto him, as that he should be 
' immersed and keep the ordinances.' This is rank heresy 
at Goose Creek church. They have ^ things there as they 
were at the first ; ' and if a man will ^ obey the Gospel ' 
and attend church regularly, the question is not what may 
he do, but what may he not do with impunity? 

*^But the worst thing about Bob Lawson is this: he 
says he thinks a great many people will get to heaven 
without being immersed. He further says that the breth- 
ren generally believe as he does about it, but are afraid to 
say so. Bob got into this conceit about in this way : his 
father was considered a pretty 'hard case,' even in the 
neighborhood of Goose Creek church. He was raised in 
the mountain district of North Carolina, came west in an 
early day, and settled in the woods. He was a man of 
some good qualities, but he fell into vicious habits — spent 
much of his time in hunting, at shooting matches, and at 
scrub quarter-races. It hardly need be added that he was 



"BOB LAWSONS HERESY. II5 

fond of strong drink, and often got into trouble at elec- 
tions and musters. Altogether, old Lawson turned out to 
be a very indifferent husband, and the neglected wife and 
mother had a hard life of it. Bob's eyes swim and his 
voice trembles when he speaks of it even now. She strug- 
gled faithfully in her darkened home ; tried to keep things 
together, and to raise her children decently. She never 
could read well, her son says, and that she had no time to 
read, nor any books. When Bob was about fifteen years 
of age, she joined the church ; and as nobody said any 
thing to her on the subject, she never was baptized * by 
any mode.' She prayed often, and often talked to her 
children about repentance, and holiness of heart, and judg- 
ment, and eternity. She took delight in singing — weeping 
while she sung — Charles Wesley's inimitable penitential 
hymn : 

** * Rest for my soul I long to find ; 

Saviour of all, since mine thou art, 
Give me thy meek and lowly mind. 
And stamp thine image on my heart. 

** * Break off the yoke of inbred sin, 
And fully set my spirit free ; 
I can not rest till pure within, 
Till I am wholly lost in thee.* 

''And so, toiling, loving, rejoicing, sorrowing, she 
reached her fiftieth year, and, exhausted, lay down to die. 
She had been a widow more than ten years. She was too 
weak to talk much, from the very beginning of her sick- 
ness ; but as long as she was able she would speak of the 
goodness of God to her, and of the love and mercy of 
Christ, and exhort her children to meet her in heaven. 
An old Methodist preacher came often during her sickness, 
sang her favorite hymns, and prayed with her. At last 
her hour came. She whispered words of last fiirewcll tc 



Il6 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

her children, lifted up her soul, and reached out hei 
shrunken, trembling hands to God, and passed away. 

^^Now, Bob Lawson thinks his mother was saved, and 
says he hopes to meet her in heaven. He says he be- 
lieves that immersion only is baptism, and that baptism 
is ordained for the remission of sins ; but he believes that 
God will accept the spirit of obedience in some cases for 
exact conformity to law." 

Fifth. His heresy co7tcerning the possible fate of 
Bridget G Flanegan and Mike^ her son, 

*^ James O'Flanegan comes to America from the county 
of Cork, Ireland, bringing with him his wife Bridget and 
his son 'Mike,' fourteen years of age. They speak Irish 
tolerably, and English very badly. O'Flanegan had been 
all his life, as his father had been, a delver, a ditcher, a 
turf-cutter, and had lived in a hovel. The O'Flanegans 
took their highest idea of manhood and of holiness from 
the Catholic priest who was with them, and helped drink 
what little whisky they could afford at weddings, funerals, 
and 'christenings.' They find a hovel for a home in one 
of our cities, and the husband, poor fellow, tries to scrape 
up a living by scraping the streets. Mike gets apprenticed 
to a livery stable, with little prospect or hope of advance- 
ment. Bridget scolds and scuffles among her Celtic neigh- 
bors, equally ignorant, equally squalid ; goes to confession 
when she can, and observes the fasts and feasts of the 
Church, especially the fasts. On a Sunday Mike gets 
holiday, and determines to surprise and delight his mother 
by presenting her with a string of fish of his own catching, 
and to help out a lean supper withal. Instead of taking 
home the fish, as proposed, he is taken home himself, dead 
— drowned. There is boisterous lamentation enough in 
the hovel of poor O'Flanegan; the poor often love their 
children ; they have little else to love. A week after, 



FATE OF BRIDGET O FLANEGAN. II7 

Stricken with pneumonia — the result of poverty — the 
mother follows her drowned boy to the grave in the 
^Potter's Field' — ^and,' adds some tender, pious, ortho- 
dox soul, ' she follows him to hell ' — a hell so hot that 
should one fall out of it into a red-hot furnace, he would 
take cold by the great and sudden change of temperature. 
Into that place of endless torment the poor Irish boy is 
sent for * Sabbath-breaking,* and the mother, because she 
could not read Greek ! A hard, dark life — a ceaseless and 
hardly successful struggle against death by frost and fam- 
ine, ends thus ! Now, the writer has ventured to express 
some wholesome doubts about this wholesale * orthodox 

damnation,' and word comes to him from that he is 

considered unsound 

''Real faith in a world of immeasurable woe, ' where the 
worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched,' would render 
inipossible a good deal of the still remaining pulpit slang 
about * damnation,' and shake our Kentucky Christianity 
with a wholesome dread of falling into the hands of the 
living God 

''When I consider the infinite patience of God with 
sinners here, I am induced to hope that light may rise on 
the destiny of many poor wretched ones, after they shall 
have passed to that undiscovered country from whose 
bourne no traveler returns." 

The observant reader will not fail to note that 
while almost all Dr. Pinkerton's alleged heresies 
lean to mercy's side-; there is not one of them from 
which a willful, rebellious, impenitent sinner can 
draw the least hope or find any encouragement in a 
life of ungodliness. This would be even more ap- 
parent if my extracts from his writing were fullcr 
and more copious. 

Another matter of significance, in justice to him, 



Il8 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

deserves to be remembered, viz. : No unsoundness 
can possibly be charged to his faith in Christ — his 
person, his authority, his mediatorial work ; concern- 
ing these he indulged in no conjectures, but meekly 
received the great mystery of godliness, " God man- 
ifest in the flesh." 



ENGAGES IN MISSIONARY WORK. 1 19 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Letters — 1867-1874 — Mrs. Crutcher — Mrs. Lusk — To John B. Bowman — 
A letter of reconciliation — John Shackleford — Inauguration of Gen. 
Grant — Miss Frances Smith — Eclipse of the sun — Gen. Garfield — 
Cyrus McNeely — R. C. Ricketts — Letter of condolence. 

FROM February, 1866, until June, 1873, he was 
without regular employment of any kind. At 
this last date he was appointed by General Grant 
special mail agent. He spent much of the inter- 
vening time in quiet but most persistent and valua- 
ble missionary work among the blacks of Central 
Kentucky — visiting them in their homes, preaching 
to them in their churches, and seeking by all availa- 
ble means to improve their present estate, and to 
open up to them a future of hope and progress. 

In all this work he found great help in the coun- 
sel, prayers, and material aid of that devoted man of 
God, Cyrus McNeely, of Hopedale, Ohio. 

By working a garden largely with his own hands, 
and going hither and thither, preaching at different 
points in the North — Greensburg, Ind., Indianapolis, 
Detroit, Chicago, Cleveland," Warren, Hopedale, and 
other places — he managed not to get hopelessly into 
debt, and at the same time to keep up his struggle in 
Kentucky. The following letters, especially those to 
Gen. Garfield and Cyrus McNeely, will give the 
reader some vision of his [)lans, purposes, thoughts, 
1 1 



I20 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

labors, difficulties, during this most trying period of 
his life : 

'^Detroit, Mich., Wednesday, Dec. 4, 1867. 

'^ Dear Daughter : — I drop a line to you and Mr. C. 
I am pretty well to-night, and hopeful. My late journey- 
ings have been more fruitful to me of good than any two 
weeks of my past life. I have been much alone with God, 
and though sorrowful always, I have been alw^ays rejoicing. 
It is well for us to be driven to the breast of Jesus by the 
rougher experiences of life, for there only can we appreci- 
ate his ^ exceeding great and precious promises.* It is the 
laboring and heavy-laden that he invites to come to him. 

** Our social meeting has just closed, and, my daughter, 
the sisters here speak and pray in these meetings. I have 
never been so impressed by any speaking I have ever 
heard. You would be astonished at the calm, quiet, un- 
presuming, tearful manner in which they talk to us. Oh, 
it is beautiful ! 

*' I wrote B. J. some time ago to beware of slipping 
into a censorious manner in the pulpit. Generally, 
nothing can be worse. I now drop a similar hint to Mr. 
C. I am, of course, anxious on every account, for their 
ministerial success, and I have been myself a great offen- 
der in this respect, and perhaps somewhat to blame for 
any tendency that way in Mr. C. and B. J.; I therefore 
feel it my duty to offer caution. 

^^I expect to be at home by December 25th, and shall 
liope to have you all with us at that time. Take care of 
your health, dear, and may the Lord bless you all. Write 
what you can on this and half the next page, and send it 
to Burnett. He will write his share and send it to Lexing- 
ton. 'Ma* will write her story and send it to Jim. He 
will finish the sheet, and send it back to me. / want all 
to hurry it up. I send to all warmest greetings and my 
heart's blessing. L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



TO MRS. LUSK. 121 

'^Cincinnati, Ohio, Aug. lo, 1868. 
<* Mrs. Lusk : 

'^ Dear Sister : — I have not forgotten your kind request 
that I would write to you, nor my promise of compliance. 
Indeed, as often as I have thought of the kind attentions 
that I received at East Cleveland during my short sojourn 
there I have not failed to think of you, and to desire to 
see you again. But I am yearly becoming less inclined to 
write, and of course growing less and less able to write 
with facility. And, after all, how poor a substitute is the 
pen for the living voice — the kindling eye, and the thou- 
sand signs of apprehension and appreciation that flash 
over the human face divine when soul communes with soul 
in living converse. 

** At this moment I am impressed by a sense of the in- 
conceivably rapid flight of time — the running out of the 
sands of life. I saw you first in March. Then, on that 
beautiful lake shore, the winter still held sway, and it seemed 
to us, at times, that spring would never come. This was 
but yesterday. The spring came at length, with its verdure, 
and bloom, and song, and is past — and summer is now 
nearly over. To me, the groves are full of the sounds of 
autumn, and prophecies of winter fill the air. This is 
true, also, in a metaphorical sense, for of life's brief year 
the late autumn and the winter only remain. But the 
groves are gorgeous in their funereal drapery. Thank 
heaven ! they die in glory, and the winds that wail a 
requiem for the returnless past, whisper to my soul proi)h- 
ecies of * fairer worlds on high.' This is our glory and 
our greatness — we are ivunoi'ial ! And what is this life if 
the grave is its terminus? We love, and hope, and suffer, 
and sorrow in vain, if there be not for us somewhere in 
the realms of God a home. Nothing can justify the toils 
and anxious cares of our civilization but our immortality. 
Why should one care for friends and kindred dear if in 



122 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

death we are to speak everlasting farewells — everlasting 
farewells ? 

'' It has seemed to me, nevertheless, that this chief char- 
acteristic of the human ra.ce — its immortality — by some 
strange fatality, is the one least thought of; that it to a 
very small extent only shapes and determines our plans 
of life. We boast of our physical strength, in which tens 
of thousands of the lower animals far excel us ; we rejoice 
in manly or feminine beauty, transient as it is, and yet, 
apart from the mind that lights up the countenance, our 
beauty equals not that of the rose, or the lily, or the vio- 
lets. Should we dare to boast of our length of days in 
the presence of the patriarchal oak, how would his longer 
life rebuke our folly ? He might say to us : ^ I wrestled 
with the storms before your father saw the light of the 
sun, and shall be still a young tree when your descendants 
of the third generation shall come, in age, to repose be- 
neath my shade ' But then we have reason — we can 
measure the distances to the stars, and the distances be- 
tween thera; we can build houses, and ships, and roads; 
we can legislate, and excogitate systems of philosophy, 
physical, moral, intellectual ; we can classify and interpret 
phenomena; and great is man ! And yet with all this 
boasting, our most astute thinkers are not agreed upon the 
conditions and limitations of knowledge, the basis of 
moral obligation, nor the best form of civil government. 
There are no debates in a beehive — none among a flight of 
swallows. Instinct is superior to reason, for its decisions 
are infallible. The bee never mistakes as to the best form 
for its cell ; the migratory birds never mistake the time 
nor the direction of their appointed flights, nor, when un- 
troubled by art^ the appropriate food for themselves and 
their young. The robin makes no mistakes, nor does 
the horse on his native plains. Man's life is a succession 
of blunders. In what, then, may he glory? Not in 
strength, not in beauty, not in wealth, not in longevity, 



TO MRS. LUSK. 1 23 

not in his powers of reason : but in this, the rather, that 
God is his pitying Father ; that Jesus is his Kinsman Re- 
deemer; that he is the heir of immortality; that heaven 
is his home. The light of this blessed immortality, thrown 
down on 'our present life, illuminates — explains all. We 
can welcome toil and trial, for by them the soul is made 
strong for an immortal career ; we can endure with 
patience the ministrations of sorrow, since lying beneath 
its shadow the spirit fledges her wings for flights mightier, 
grander, and beyond all flights of comets. We may dare 
to love, since Lovers prophecy of blessed and indissoluble 
reunions shall have its fulfillment. We may speak with 
composure our farewells in the gateway to the Silent 
Land, since their unspeakable tenderness is a promise that 
we shall hail the stricken, weeping ones, in a land where 
they shall weep no more. We may lie down without re- 
gret in the narrow house, since it has been broken beyond 
repair by the risen Lord. 

" * On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses shall blend, 
And beauty immortal awake from the tomb.' 

*'In this hope, then, we will rest and rejoice, and in the 
cross of Christ we will glory. 

*' Ever and truly yours, L. L. Pinkerton. 

*' P. S. — I am here in a kind of cell in the basement of 
the church. Eighth and Walnut Streets, less alone in my 
cell than when * in among the throngs of men.' I fear I 
have inflicted a sore penalty by way of return for your 
friendly request that I should write to you. It can not 
now be remedied, for I find myself without time or incli- 
nation to transcribe and recast what I have written. I 
generally take my pen without premeditation, and allow 
it to run along the page consulting only my heart. You 
will present my kindest regards to all the household on 
your return, and to all others in E. C. who may care for 



124 I-I^E ^F ^* ^' PINKERTON. 

my welfare. It will give me pleasure always to hear from 
you and to know that * it is well with you/ and with your 
children. 

^* We shall meet again ; if not here, then forever there, in 
that better land, where our twilight of existence will have 
become eternal day. 

<* * Beyond the parting and the meeting, 
Beyond the farewell and the greeting, 
Beyond the pulse's fever beating, 

We shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 

Sweet home ! 
Lord, tarry not, l;ut come.' 

*' And so I rest in hope. 

'' Ever yours, L. L. P." 



^'Lexington, Ky., November 24, 1868. 

*' Dear General: — Health, peace, and blessedness to 
you and all yours. 

*'I send you a prospectus which will explain itself. We 
have hesitated for two years, and now weigh anchor and 
give our sails to the breeze. Can you write us a short 
article for No. i ? I say short, but long if you have time. 
We would be satisfied with four or five pages of foolscap, 
or even two; say, in fact, one. You could, if you chose, 
put it in the form of a letter to the * Editors,' and in a 
free and easy way give your views on any subject within 
the scope and intent of our prospectus. You see, dear 
General, how unbounded my confidence in you is by the 
presumptuous way in which I write to you. 

'* We shall have hard work to get out into the open sea 
— the headlands jut in very close together — moral coward- 
ice on the right, and partisan bigotry on the left, leaving 
for us a very narrow strait. 

*^ My health has not been good of late, but I hope yet in 



TO JOHN SHACKLEFORD. 125 

God, and shall try to fight my battle out to victory ; at 
least, I will die invincible. 

** Shall I ever see you and the ' dear ones * again ? May 
God and good angels keep them evermore. I hope you 
will all bear me in your hearts — and now again, farewell. 
**Ever truly yours, L. L. Pinkerton." 



EDITORIAL CORRESPONDENCE. 

^'Pittsburgh, Pa., March 25, 1869. 
''John Shackleford: 

''Dear Brother : — When we parted, some weeks ago, 
in Cincinnati, under the dim lamp-light, you requested 
me to write a letter for the Monthly, I promised to do 
so ; but have, I fear, delayed too long. I came yesterday 
to this foggy, smoky, begrimed city, a hive of industry, 
the fire of whose furnaces never goes out, and the smoke 
of which goes up, day and night, perpetually. Notwith- 
standing all the smoke and soot, however, I find here a 
fair proportion of gentle, generous, loving hearts. Our 
parting in Cincinnati was, to me, a sad one. I felt how 
precious a thing true friendship is, and sighed to think 
how little of it is known on earth. There might be more, 
much more, if men could afford to be candid and truth- 
ful. If we could so far become Christianized as to allow 
our faults to be told us, how many errors in judgment 
and in action might we correct ; but our pride, our self- 
love prevents, and so our Christian intercourse even 
amounts only to formal, courteous conventionalism. We 
say ' brother * to a man whose princii)les we detest, and 
are allowed to cherish, in ourselves, without admonition 
or rebuke, the most contemptible conceits and assump- 
tions. I can allow you to 'scalp' others if you feel like 
it, but you must keep your hands from me^ and salute vie 
'Sir Oracle* if you are to have my kind regards. How 
petty, how unmanly this is! When will it be otherwise ? 



126 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Never, till we shall restore indeed the 'ancient order of 
things.' But this is not the letter I was to write. 

''Sharing with some Kentucky friends, among them 
General S. S. Fry, the luxury of a sleeping-car, I soon 
forgot the world as thoroughly as it ever will forget me, ' 
and, as unconscious as the baggage, was being whirled 
away over the roUing lands of Central Ohio. At ten the 
next morning we were at Bell Air, and, ' after hearty 
breakfast,' crossed the Ohio River and were soon again 
rushing eastward. When night fell we were 'shooting 
under arches, rattling over bridges,' and plunging in 
among the Alleghanies. There is something grand and 
really exciting in such a mad ride by night among mount- 
ains, through tunnels, and on trestle-work over chasms 
hundreds of feet deep. Nevertheless one enjoys such an 
excursion the more, as I think, when he is insured in a 
stiff sum against accidents to life or limb. I failed to see 
the chasms and towering cliffs about Cheat River, of 
which I have often heard : and can not so well appreciate 
the almost miraculous engineering by which a railroad has 
been carried over the one and through the other. 

'' Our train consisted of eight passenger cars, all filled 
to their utmost capacity, with only two sleeping-cars. Of 
course, nine of every ten of us had to sit up all night. 
We could not even rest by curling down, 'coon fashion,' 
on a seat; yet we managed to nod lustily, which furnished 
entertainment to any that chanced to be fully awake. 

"I had passed through Cumberland in the fall of 1821, 
then a boy in my tenth year, and thought I remembered a 
mountain, up which we started, on the old National road, 
immediately on quitting the place. I went out on the 
platform to reconnoiter, and there was the grand old 
mountain looming up against the sky. My recollection 
was accurate ; but the mc:untain did not seem so high as 
it did forty-six years ago. That range, up Avhich the 
^/^ National road passed, immediately on leaving Cumber- 



TO JOHN SHACKLEFORD. \1*J 

land, is regarded, I think, as the first of tlie Alleghanies 
proper, met as one jonrneys westward. I failed to see, 
except ^ by the misty moonbeam's struggling light,' the 
scenery about Harper's Ferry. I made nothing of it. 
* The Daughter of the Stars,' the Shenandoah, it is said, 
seems to rush through an immense rift in the mountain, 
to mingle with the Potomac. ]f one wishes to see a 
country, let him kee[) out of railroad cars — better go on 
foot, any way, than by rail. 

** In good time we brought up at the Relay House, 
seven miles from Baltimore, where we changed cars, which, 
however, was not accomplished till we had another 
'hearty breakfast.' I follow distinguished authority in 
recording our gastronomic performances, and hope our 
readers will find the notices entertaining. The land be- 
tween the Relay House and Washington is sterile beyond 
expression. A reddish, pebbly clay, timbered with scrubby 
oaks, yellow pine, and red cedar ; the very sight of it 
would suggest starvation to one of our Blue Grass or prai- 
rie farmers, and give him *the shakes.' A i^"^ miles from 
Washington we pass Bladensburgh, an inconsiderable, 
straggling village, but famous as the place where our mili- 
tia made such good time when attacked by the British in 
1814. The affair was long spoken of as the * Bladens- 
burgh Races; ' but I guess our people had all the running 
to themselves, for the British marched on and burned the 
public buildings in Washington. Bladensburgh has also a 
sad notoriety as the scene of several terrible duels. Here 
Decatur and Barron, both high in office in the United 
States navy, fought. Both fell at the first fire — both sup- 
posed to be mortally wounded. Barron survived ; poor 
Decatur, the pride of our navy, was lost. Two Virginians 
once fought here witli vutskcts, at ten paces. One of 
them, named Mason, was shot to death on the instant, 
while his antagonist, strangely enough, escaped with a 
simple wounding. It is now long since there has been a 



128 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

duel among our distinguished men, and there is good 
ground to hope that this remnant of barbarism is about to 
disappear forever. 

'' I witnessed a part of the inauguration parade and 
ceremonies, and was 7iot particularly impressed. It was 
all well enough, as a show for children, but really it seemed 
to me a veritable ^ much ado about nothing.' The pro- 
cession was doubtless very large, and the promiscuous 
crowd was to be estimated by the acre ; but what of it ? 
I have seen thirty thousand people at 'a hangin',' all 
interested. For my own part, I was so well satisfied with 
that one performance on the rope that I never wish to see 
another, and I feel a good deal so about inaugurations. 
By the favor of General Garfield I got leave to stand in 
the gallery of the Senate Chamber, and saw the magnates 
enter. First came the judges of the United States Su- 
preme Court, all wearing long, black silk robes. Then 
came, dropping in, two or three at a time, distinguished 
army and navy officers ; then the representatives of foreign 
governments. These last had, to me, a most comical 
appearance. As they filed into the seats assigned to them, 
a chap standing by me said, in a quite irreverent tone, 
* Here come the parlez-vous,' The procession looked like 
a file of mammoth macaws, paroquets, and dandy-jacks. 
The seats provided for the retiring President and his Cabi- 
net were left vacant. This was the best thing of the 
occasion. In due time the President and Vice-president 
elect made their appearance, and in a few minutes there- 
after Mr. Colfax took the oath of office, and the Senate 
of the Fortieth Congress was declared adjourned without 
delay. How different the scene in that chamber just four 
years before, when the nation was disgraced by the 
drunken, senseless harangue of Andrew Johnson — in my 
deliberate judgment one of the most odious characters in 
universal history. But let him pass away to that obscurity 



» TO JOHN SHACKLEFORD. 1 29 

out of which he could never have emerged but for the 
almost bottomless infamy of professional politics. 

'' I did not see the proceedings on the platform in front 
of the capitol, where General Grant took the oath of 
office and read his inaugural address ; but you will have 
learned from the papers that it was all well done. I shall 
have somewhat to say of the inaugural in my contemplated 
papers on 'Politics and Religion/ should I ever be allowed 
to resume them. 

'* Having spoken rather disparagingly of the silk robes 
of our justices, and of the bespangled attire of the foreign 
dignitaries, let me say, seriously, that 1 think the time 
when men can trick themselves out in ' childish fooleries,* 
with safety to their reputation, is about past. It is impor- 
tant for military and naval officers to wear some badge of 
their rank, and even policemen should be known by their 
garb ; but why should a lawyer wrap himself in forty or 
fifty yards of silk because he happens to be called to a 
judgeship? and why should foreign ministers transform 
themselves into scare-crows on great occasions? It is 
sheer nonsense. Tennyson's little May Queen could, fitly 
enough, anticipate with joy, and boast of the ' ribins 
gay,* with which she was to be bedecked when the lads 
should come from far and near to see her made * Queen o* 
the May;* but in men, such bedizening is simply con- 
temptible. But, perhaps, you will say, I, too, am making 
much ado about nothing. 

**I think all our young Americans should, if possible, 
visit the national capital and the tomb of Washington. 
The magnitude and the grandeur of the public buildings 
and the contents of the Patent Office and the Smithsonian 
Institution, would tend to inspire in them sentiments of 
respect for their great country, wliile a few hours spent at 
Mount Vernon, where the father of his country sleeps, 
would, it is to be hoped, awaken in their souls a lofty 
patriotism very near akin to religion. 



130 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. ^ 

*^ In my miscellaneous readings I have fallen upon de- 
scriptions of events that impressed me by their extraordi- 
nary sublimity. A few of these I have time briefly to 
mention. In December, 1805, the army of Napoleon was 
far from the borders of France, away in Moravia in fact, 
between 49 and 50 degrees north latitude. Close at hand 
lay the combined armies of Russia and Austria, in pres- 
ence of their respective emperors; the allied army being 
numerically superior to the French. The result of the 
impending battle was certain to decide the wavering 
councils of the Prussian cabinet, at the moment neutral. 
The defeat of Napoleon, as he well knew, would bring 
upon him, at once, the whole military power of the Prus- 
sian monarchy; while aiiy thing bordering on a rout of 
his army would, not unlikely, end his reign. On the 
morning of that short winter day, December 2d, the battle 
was joined, and before noon the allied army was not only 
beaten, but routed, almost annihilated, with an inconsid- 
erable loss to the French. The great marshals and gen- 
erals of the empire surrounded Napoleon, to report of the 
battle, and to congratulate him on the wonderful success 
of his almost superhuman tactics. The occasion was 
among the grandest in history ; and the story of it has, I 
confess, fascinated me. 

*' When the reigning Napoleon returned from his Italian 
campaign, a few years ago, the people of Paris decreed 
him a great ovation. The assembling took place in one 
of the parks of the magnificent, gay metropolis of France. 
Men and women, by thousands, were assembled from all 
parts of the empire, indeed, from all parts of Europe, and 
seated in an immense amphitheater. At the appointed 
moment. Napoleon III, the reputed hero of Magenta and 
of Solferino, superbly mounted, rode alone into the in- 
closure, amid the acclaim of hundreds of thousands of 
admiring and excited spectators. That was a day for the 
son of Hortense ! ' 



TO JOHN SHACKLEFORD. I3I 

*^Iii our own brief, but beautiful history, is the record 
of one occurrence which, as it seems to me, is unmatched 
in the uninspired annals of the world. The beautiful and 
the sublime meet and mingle in it, producing emotions 
not to be analyzed, and that can find expression only in 
tears. It is best told by old Parson Weems, in his Life 
of Washington^ a book that ought to be published by 
order of Congress, and distributed, gratis, by the million. 
There is nothing like it for an American boy. Burns says 
of the story of Wallace, that it poured into his veins a tide 
of patriotism that would boil along there till the flood- 
gates of life should shut in eternal rest. So I can say for 
Weems' story of Washington. It has made me incurably, 
hopelessly * for the Union.' But to the incident. 

^^ In the spring of 1790, Washington left Mount Vernon 
for New York, to be inaugurated President of the United 
States. Speaking of that tedious journey, and of the wel- 
come that every-where greeted the patriot soldier, Wash- 
ington Irving says : ^ We question whether any of these 
testimonials of a nation's gratitude affected Washington 
more deeply than that he received at Trenton, New Jersey. 
It was on a sunny afternoon when he arrived on the banks 
of the Delaware, where, twelve years before, he had crossed 
in darkness and in storm, through clouds of snow and drifts 
of floating ice, on his daring attempt to strike a blow at a 
triumphant enemy.' 

** * Here, at present, all was peace and sunshine; the 
broad river flowed placidly along, and crowds awaited 
him on the opposite bank, to hail him with love and 
transport. 

^''The reader may remember Washington's gloomy 
night on the banks of the Assunpink, a considerable 
stream that flows through Trenton ; the camp-fires of 
Cornvvallis in front of him ; the Delaware full of floating 
ice in the rear; and his sudden resolve on that midnight 
retreat, which turned the fortunes of the campaign. On 



132 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

the bridge crossing the Assunpink, the ladies of Trenton 
had caused a triumphal arch to be erected. It was en- 
twined with evergreens and laurels, and bore the inscrip- 
tion : ** The defender of the mothers will be the protector 
of the daughters/' 

** ^ At this bridge the matrons of the city had assembled 
, to pay him reverence, and as he passed under the arch, a 
number of young girls, dressed in white and crowned with 
garlands, strewed flowers before him, singing an ode ex- 
pressive of their love and gratitude. Never was ovation 
more graceful, touching and sincere ; and Washington, 
tenderly affected, declared that the impression of it on his 
heart could never be effaced.' 

*' ' Never be effaced.' One would think so. This beats 
Austerlitz and the proceedings in the * Champs Elysees ' 
in Paris. That was Washington's grandest day. The ode 
sung by the damsels, is given by Weems, and my recollec- 
tion is that each stanza ends with : 

*' ' Strew your hero's way with flowers.' 

''But let us go to an obscure village lying among the 
hills of Galilee, and contemplate a scene that transpired 
there — a scene that, in impressiveness, in sublimity, and 
beauty, and glory, has, for me at least, no parallel. I 
have supposed that it was in autumn when that quiet, 
peaceful Sabbath morning broke over Palestine. A 
thoughtful young man went from the abode of his mother 
to the synagogue. As his custom was, he went in and 
stood up to read. 'And there was delivered to him the 
book of the Prophet Isaiah, and when he opened the book 
he found the place where it was written ; the Spirit of the 
Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach 
the gospel to the poor, he has sent me to heal the broken- 
hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recov- 
ering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are 
bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord. And 



TO J. B. BOWMAN. I33 

he closed the book and gave it again to the minister, and 
sat down ; and the eyes of all them that were in the syna- 
gogue were fastened on him. And he began to say unto 
them, This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears. And 
all bare him witness, and wondered at the gracious words 
that proceeded out of his mouth.' They bare him witness 
and wondered at his gracious words, and directly afterward 
* thrust him out of the synagogue, and carried him to the 
brow of the hill whereon their city was built, that they 
might cast him down headlong; but he, passing through 
the midst of them, went his way.' Like the millions of 
to-day, these Nazarenes failed to see in their humble 
townsman the world's Redeemer; and now, as then, he 
passes through the midst and goes his way, lonely, sorrow- 
ful. We have our inaugurations, our battle jubilees, and 
much else to attend to, and see not the glory of God as it 
shines for us in the face of Jesus. But surely the day of 
the Christ cometh. He will yet be accepted as the world's 
truest, greatest hero, and believed in as the only * begotten 
Son of God.' 

''Ever truly, yours, L. L. Pinkerton." 



''Lexington, Ky., July, 1869. 
•'J. B. Bowman : 

• ^^Dear Brother : — I met sister Bowman a few days ago. 
She invited me to Ashland, saying that you were unwell, 
and would be glad to see me» Time, that buries so many 
precious hopes, ought to bury enmities as well. I do not 
recur to what of the past proved unpleasant, except that 
I am more than willing to forget it utterly, and to remem- 
ber only the days when hope and friendship made life's 
pathway luminous, and strewed it with flowers. Offended 
as I have been, there yet has been no time when Louisville 
and the trip east have been forgotten — no time when [ 
would not have walked to the extremity of the ( ontiix^p.t 



134 L.IFR OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

to be with you in distress. I have long wished to assure 
you of this ; for you would have reason to believe me capa- 
ble of any meanness, if you could believe me forgetful that 
I owed my life to you. Let this suffice. . . . You 
will pardon this paper ; I had none better, but you will 
see by it that I have not improved at all in the last ten 
years, and that I write you now as I always did, that is to 
say, right straight on. Truly, yours, 

'^ L. L. PiNKERTON.'* 

THE ECLIPSE. 

^ ^ Greensburg, Ind., August 9, 1869. 
** Miss Frances Smith, Hiram, O. : 

^^ JDear Sister: — The 7th of August, 1869, will long be re- 
membered by the many thousands of the American people 
who, on the evening of that notable day, witnessed the 
total eclipse of the sun. We beheld the august phenome- 
non, and yearn to tell our readers who were distant from 
the path of the moon's darkest shadow, what we saw, that 
they may sympathize in the emotions of mingled awe, as- 
tonishment and rapture, with which we looked upon the 
sublime spectacle. But who is equal to the adequate des- 
cription of such a scene ? 

*^As what we shall attempt to say can have no scientific 
value, our point of observation is not a matter of the least 
importance. We may say, however, that we were very 
near the ninth meridian, west from Washington, and about 
equally near the thirty-ninth parallel of north latitude. 

*''At noon of the memorable day, in company with breth- 
ren Taffe, VanBuskirk, John Shackleford, and others of 
both sexes, we left Greensburgh, Ind., for a village 
fifteen miles further south, that we might be fully within 
the track of total obscuration. Like the hundreds of 
thousands of wondering gazers along that path, we had no 
aids to observation except fragments of smoked glass. 

*'At about thirty minutes past four, the obscuration of 



ECLIPSE OF THE SUN. 1 35 

the sun began. As we faced westward, the edge of the 
sun looking directly north, was first obscured. Upward 
and southward, apparently, the moon slowly passed, until, 
at twenty minutes past five, the sun was totally hidden be- 
hind her dark disc. 

** It was not easy in such unusual circumstances, to pre- 
serve that mental calm so necessary to accurate observa- 
tion. You will not forget that multiplied thousands of 
spectators are, at the same instant, looking skyward, and, 
with palpitating hearts, awaiting what must seem to many, 
a derangement in the procession of worlds ; and the soul 
will be stirred with a universal sympathy. 

'' The changes that had taken place in the appearances of 
things about us, during the thirty minutes immediately 
preceding the moment of total darkness, were well calcu- 
lated to disturb one's equanimity. 

'• The light that seemed on the point of total and final 
extinguishment was neither twilight nor moonlight, but a 
purplish veil, in which every familiar thing became spec- 
tral and ghastly. In the unmarred forest that lay on 
three sides of us, blackest night gathered rapidly, while a 
cool, heavy wind, in which the green corn behind us 
rustled dismally, seemed to sweep slowly and low along 
the ground. A herd of horses that had been feeding near 
by, grouped themselves closely together; domestic fowls, 
in obvious fright, hurried toward their perch ; a company 
of staid geese that had been lazily paddling in a neighbor- 
ing runnel, surprised by sudden night, were seen marching 
rapidly to their place of nightly rendezvous ; a number of 
small birds, utterly bewildered, flew about wildly, uttering 
cries of alarm; — these terrestrial phenomena, with the 
conviction that we were about to witness for the first time, 
and certainly for the last time, the sun's total eclij)sr, 
raised the mind above the point of i)hilosoi)liic calmness. 

** At the moment of total eclii)sc, the night that had been 
gathering in the dense wo(;(ls seemed to be siiddrnls- i)ro- 



136 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

jected upon the open field in our front. I think I can 
not be mistaken in supposing that I saw the darkness of 
the great shadow fall on the earth. 

^'Appallingly /^(f^r seemed the moon's black disc ; but we 
remembered who had set her in the sky, and ordained her 
journeyings through the untracked infinitude of space. 
The purplish blackness of the moon was the more striking 
in contrast with the halo of glory that surrounded her. 
Who shall describe that halo, that crown of transcendent 
beauty ? 

'^At the instant of the sun's disappearance, a number of 
our company became much excited, and Brother Shackle- 
ford, carried away in an ecstasy of wonder and delight 
and adoration, threw his arms up wildly, and shouted his 
irrepressible rapture. 

*' Uncertain as to the duration of total obscuration at our 
post of observation, and fearful that it would end each 
moment, we hesitated to take our eyes from the supreme 
attraction. We hurriedly glanced at the dark sky above 
us; at the horizon to the north, the west and south, 
adorned with a golden glory like that which follows a clear 
autumnal sunset. The black-blue curtain of heaven was 
fringed, so to speak, with yellowish light. Stars w^ere visi- 
ble, but we had no wish to gaze at them, and while still 
looking at the one object of supreme interest, sudden as 
lightning there shot out from behind the moon jets of light 
of unspeakable splendor. This light was sparkling, and, 
in quality, reminded me of the light emitted from the 
sparks that fly from intensely heated iron when struck 
heavily. These coruscations were instantly succeeded by 
a gush of the purest, whitest light I ever beheld ; its bril- 
liancy was wonderful, transcendent, blinding, overwhelm- 
ing. The gush of light was accompanied, or immediately 
followed, by a shower of meteors, that shot down the 
western sky; and then appeared the well-defined edge of 
the sun, and the magnificence of the spectacle was past. 



TO CYRUS MCNEELY. 137 

** * O God ! how good beyond compare 
Do ihese, thy meaner works, appear ! 
And if such glories gild the span 
Of ruined earth and fallen man, 
How glorious must those mansions be 
Where thy redeemed shall dwell with thee ! ' 

**The total obscuration lasted one minute and some 
seconds. We at once prepared to journey liomeward, 
feeling no interest in the lessening eclipse, and not caring 
to watch the dissolving shadows. 

** Material splendors and grandeurs of our God, we shall 
see you again never more. When long seasons shall have 
passed away, you will return ; but we shall not be here to 
witness or to welcome you. We shall ourselves, ere then, 
have suffered a dread eclipse. We shall have passed within 
a great shadow, never to be lifted till the Son of Right- 
ousness shall arise on the night of the grave. 

'^ Ever yours in Jesus, L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



** Lexington, Ky., November 9, 1870. 
** Cyrus McNeely: 

^^ Dear Brother : — I spent a part of last week in Mid- 
way, fourteen miles from this place, a village where I lived 
sixteen years, where I built the orplian girl school, a con- 
gregation of disciples, and where fcr six years I conducted 
a female academy. A protracted meeting was mulcr way 
there in my old church, conducted by two young men 
whom I baptized. I went to the meeting three or four 
times, but was not in any icujy reco\:;nized as a preacher. 
On Thursday niglit I attended the colored people's i)raycr 
meeting and made appointments for Saturday night. 
Lord's Day morning and night. Wc had a house built 
for them while I lived in Midway, and 1 baptized a great 
many, but they have become scattered and demoralized. 
They were most grateful for my attention to them, and I 



138 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

promised to return soon and to take Brother Shackleford 
with me. I felt on Sunday night that if the Lord would 
open a way for me, I would spend the remnant of my 
active life among this poor people. When I reached home 
I found your letter, and this brought matters to a crisis 
with me. Now, my brother, let me state the whole case : 

^^ I. The colored disciples have but few meeting-houses, 
and the white people would not allow their houses to be 
used by any one for the purpose of instructing them. I 
should, therefore, be compelled to preach and teach in 
the meeting-houses of colored Methodists and Baptists. 

'* 2. I would find it difficult, in the towns I might visit, 
to obtain lodging in private houses, and would have to go 
to hotels. 

'' 3. The most that could be accomplished now would 
be by teaching the moral precepts of Christ ; by instruct- 
ing the colored preachers of all clenominatio7ts privately, and 
by aiding in the organization. 

'^If I was a prominent rebel, much of the difficulty of 
the undertaking would be obviated by that circumstance, 
and all of the personal danger. This last I do not regard, 
for * I do not count my life dear to myself if I may finish 
my course with joy, and the ministry I have received to 
testify the gospel of the grace of God.' Notwithstanding 
all difficulties, I do not doubt that seed could now be 
sown in the hearts of the destitute Africans of Kentucky, 
that would yield a large increase in the coming years. 
Incidentally, the undertaking might result in the salvation 
of many white people — it might open the eyes of the 
blinded ^ disciples ' and lead them to repentance. 

'^ After a careful survey of the whole case, I feel like 
saying that I would be willing to engage in the work. 
At all events, I could test the matter fairly and ascertain 
by actual trial whether or not a work can be accomplished 
commensurate with its cost. A decided effort should be 
made, and made at once 



TO CYRUS MCNEELY. 139 

^' I send love to Sister McNeely and to all the brethren 
in Hopedale, and subscribe myself, 

^* Ever yours in Jesus, L. L. Pinkerton." 



** Chicago, III., February 14, 1871. 

Cyrus McNeely : 

'' My Dear Brother: — From about the first of June 
last year till the first of December, except about four 
weeks, including the time of my first visit to Hopedale, I 
was doing missionary work among the colored people of 
Kentucky. I did not receive more than ^600 during the 
year 1870, and as a result I fell behind, after the most 
rigid economy, about ^500. I was hoping, like poor 
Micawber, that something might turn up. Two weeks 
ago I was requested to visit this city to spend the remain- 
ing cold months with the church. This was the only 
thing that promised relief and the preservation of my 
credit, and after consulting Brother Shackleford, and my 
brother, E. Y. Pinkerton, I left home, not, I must con- 
fess, with a very light heart. Bro. Shackleford and my 
brother will keep up the work of the begun mission dur- 
ing my absence, and I will resume as soon as I return. 
If you ordered the books, the brethren named will attend 
to their distribution. I have a plan to submit to you for 
the establishment of a school for colored boys which I 
will draw up as soon as I can find leisure. That is the 
hope. I found ten boys in Lexington of the right stamj), 
and I do not doubt that I could find thirty. Had I not 
been in debt, I should have started with the ten. I notice 
that the Baptists have a fine school in Richmond, Va. 
Our peo|)le have done nothing ; and yet throuL;h all the 
richer districts of Kentucky they once owned about half 
the slaves of the coimtry ! And yet I am condemned 
even by northern ^ union ' preachers because 1 will not 



140 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

make terms with that godless, Ku-klux type of religion. 
Should you have any thing to say to me, address me at 
this city for the present. With sincere^t, kindest regards 
to the household, I rest, 

*^ Your brother in Christ, L. L. Pinkerton." 



'^ Chicago, III., March i, 1871. 
'' Cyrus McNeely: 

*' J/y Dear B?'other : — Yours of the 15th February 
came to me some days ago by way of Lexington. I re- 
turned the check to be deposited till the work is resumed 
fully, which will be in a few weeks. 

'' You seem not to have received a letter written from 
this place in which I briefly explained the reasons of my 
coming here. I am more than desirous to get home. I 
would rather work among the poor of Kentucky than the 
wealthy of Chicago. 

'^Bro. E. Y. Pinkerton and John Sh-ckleford will do 
what they can gratis during my absence, and when I get 
once more even with the world, I feel quite certain that 
with proper care and foresight I will be able to remain so. 

** Bro. Burgess^ who is here, assures me that he will aid 
my work as far as may be in his power ; that he has 
changed his mind in respect to my position, and now 
thinks I did right to remain in Kentucky and ' fight it out 
on that line.' He many times heretofore advised me to 
leave the State. 

*' And now for the school project : I think you told me 
that your eldership would have the control of about $500 
per annum. I then submit this for your consideration : 
we will buy a lot of ground near Lexington, say one or 
two acres, according to price, the first year, and deed 
it to your eldership, or to the trustees of the fund. If 
well chosen, the lot will enhance in value at a rate equal 



TO CYRCJS MCNEELY. I4I 

to lawful interest on the money, so that no loss can 
accrue. The second year, we will have the foundation 
laid, and the building fairly started. This will be a cer- 
tificate to all of determination on our part, and will tend 
to beget confidence. We will need to count the cost care- 
fully, and see that we will be able to finish what we com- 
mence. Our plan would be such as to allow of building 
in several sections. I am of opinion that by proceeding 
in this way some help could be obtained from the colored 
people themselves, and not a few wealthy Kentuckians, 
whose consciences still live, would finally favor the work ; 
indeed, I do not doubt it. 

** I suppose that I might, by the usual appliances, bap- 
tize one, or two, or three thousand freedmen in a year ; 
but, my dear brother, it is not baptism that they espe- 
cially need. Like too many of the white people who are 
baptized under excitement, nine-tenths of them would go 
from the water to their old sins with scarcely a break, I 
have been trying, since I saw you, to teach some whom I 
baptized twenty-three years ago, what a life of faith in 
Jesus means. Too often, alas! baptized white men cause 
the chief sin among the colored women. I have hope in 
schools chiefly, and if we could have a normal school 
in which fifty or more lads or girls could be prepared for 
teaching, and inspired with reverence for holiness of life, 
and pride of character, it would do more in a few years 
than a score of ordinary preachers, brawling about doc- 
trines and ordinances, could accomplish in many. I have 
contracted a severe cold in my h(^ad, and write with ditVi- 
culty. I have, however, said what I believe. We nuist 
not despise the day of small things, and I am (juite will- 
ing to be laughed at if it be necessary. 1 was laughed at 
when the Orphan Oirl School was begun. It will soon be 
fully endowed, and has sent out a great man\- well i}nali- 
fied teachers already. I will write as soon as I gel honie. 
** Truly and ever, yours, L. L. Pinkkrion." 



142 ^ LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

^* Lexington, Ky., March, 1871. 

*' My Dear General : — Since I returned from Chicago, 
I have learned that John Shackleford had written to you 
about some office. I knew nothing of this, and protest 
against your calling on General Grant on my account — now, 
henceforth, or forever. He has made up his mind, and so 
have I. 

^*I am making arrangements — or trying to make ar- 
rangements — to recommence the ^Independent Monthly.' 
For the present I am ' apostle ' to the poor negroes — lec- 
turing them on life, and duty, and destiny ; aiding them 
in establishing schools, etc. Incidentally, I am knocking 
at the foundations of our Ku-klux Christianity, and, unless 
I mistake, I am doing more for the white people than for 
the freedmen. In my opinion, General, the whole U. S. 
army would be unable to protect the negroes from outrage 
and murder. I have held this view almost since the day 
that Andrew Johnson betrayed the Republican party. 
There is no defense for the negro but in public sentiment. 
I think I fully understand the subject. Fifty negroes 
could be killed in Fayette County every month without 
one of the murderers being detected, even if there was a 
regiment of troops stationed in Lexington. 

^* Two-thirds of the populations of our towns and 
villages are members of churches, and a still larger pro- 
portion of the population of the rural districts ; but Ken- 
tucky Christianity affords no refuge to the African. 
Think, however, what an immense leverage the fact of 
their nominal church membership gives to an earnest 
pleader for the teaching of Jesus ! Oh, had I a few thou- 
sand dollars, or the means of making it, I could do more 
to defend the negro than two regiments of soldiers. 

** God bless you and yours, my dear General. Amen ! 

^^ L. L. PlNKERTON." 



TO R. C. RICKETTS. 143 

''Lexington, Ky., March 15, 1871. 

**R. C. RiCKETTS: 

^^ My Dear Brother : — Away among the snows of north- 
ern Illinois I heard of the shadow that had fallen on 
your heart and home — a shadow that I hope will mingle 
kindly with the shades of the long evening which, to you 
and to me, is now fast falling. A shade must henceforth 
lie on your hearthstone ; but seen from Calvary, it will 
be transformed for you into an angel of light pointing up- 
ward to the infinite rest, where she will be waiting for you. 

''Alas! I know not with what words of condolence to 
approach the bereaved daughters. To them a light has 
gone out that can not be rekindled till they, too, pass on 
and over to their rest. I imagine what you have all lost ; 
and yet, is not the loss to others infinite gain to her? 

"As far as I could know Mrs. Ricketts, I regarded her 
as a remarkable woman, and I presume very few outside 
the circle of her immediate kindred entertained for her a 
more profound respect, or cherished for her a more pro- 
found admiration, than did I. It remains for me only to 
say that you have my deepest sympathy in yoiir bereave- 
ment, and my humble prayer that you and I may be, as 
yoiH- departed was, ready when the Master calls us. 

" Ever yours in Jesus, L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



"Lexington, Ky., March 31, 1871. 
*' Cyrus McNeely : 

^^ Dear Brother : — After spending the first Lord*s day 
in this month with the church in Chicago, I returned to 
Kentucky, and resumed my work. The second Sunday in 
March, 1 spent in Georgetown — the county-scat of Scott 
County, and for many years the home of J. 'W Johnson. 
1 addressed a very large congregation of (oloncl i)eople 
in tlie colored Baptist meeting-house. The few negroes 
in the i)lace belonging to 'our church' have no house of 
worship. I disposed of a good many primers muX some 
13 



144 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Testaments, enough to pay traveling expenses. On the 
third Lord's day I took Bro. Shackleford to Midway, in 
Woodford County, my old home. We had three meet- 
ings on Sunday. Bro. Shackleford spoke morning and 
night, I in the afternoon. On Wednesday I spoke in the 
Methodist meeting-house, and on Thursday night in our 
own. I perfected arrangements for the organization of a 
school in Midway. On last Lord's day I visited one of 
the Baptist churches in this city, and spoke to the Sunday- 
school, and distributed primers. 

*'My work is humble and seems to promise but little, 
and yet I am persuaded that no ' evangelist ' in any of the 
States is doing a more important work than I am. My 
work is not wholly confined to the colored people. My 
mere presence in a town is a protest against the ungodli- 
ness of white disciples, and a rebuke of their inhumanity, 
and they feel it to be so. Two of the brethren of the 
Midway church attended our meeting there, and one of 
them told me that he would pay my traveling expenses as 
often as I would visit the place. The other promised to aid 
in the Sunday-school work. I shall labor on in hope as 
long as I possibly can. God is my witness that I prefer 
my work here among these poor outcasts, to any work that 
was possible in Chicago. 

** With kindest regards to all, I remain, 

*' Truly, yours, L. L. Pinkerton/' 



^'Lexington, Ky., Dec. 19, 187 1. 
** Dear Brother McNeely : — I have been absent three 
weeks. Got home last night, and found yours of the 3d. 
The books are here all right. I could and would set out 
at once for Hopedale, but, presume tliat, not having heard 
from me you have made other arrangements. If you have 
not, can you wait for me tillafter New Year's day? I am 
much hurried to-day with the funeral of a poor black man. 
His wife has been working some during the summer and 



TO GENERAL GARFIELD. I45 

fall for mine. He has been dead several days, and needs 
burying. 

**I have much to say to you, my dear brother McNeely, 
but must defer it till another time. 

"Truly and ever, yours, L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



''Lexington, Ky., Feb. 19, 1872. 
'' Cyrus McNeely : 

'^ My Dear Brother : — I have not heard from you for 
some time, and I am not sure that I recollect the exact 
status of our correspondence. I think, however, that in 
your last, you were expecting a visit from Bro. Hayden, 
and that in certain contingencies the church would wish 
to have me visit you some time during the approaching 
spring. The winter here has been unusually rigorous, and I 
suffered for several weeks from a severe cold on my lungs. 
I noticed that my strength gave way under it, to an ex- 
tent that no former experience would have prepared me to 
anticipate. I have not, however, missed more than two 
Sundays from labor, and I am now quite well again. 
These are the darkest days through which I have ever 
passed, being utterly without funds, and no way that I can 
now see of relief. Still I try to be hopeful and work on, 
entering any door of utterance that opens to me. 

*' I send Christian greeting to Sister McNeely and to 
all the household, and remain, truly and ever yours in 
Christ, L. L. Pinkerton." 



''Lexington, Ky., June 23, 1873. 
" My Dear General: — Yours of the i8th inst. came 
to hand duly, and with it my commission as mail agent, 
at large, to take effect on July ist. I call it a reprieve, 
for certainly no pauvre diable ever felt much more relieved 
by a reprieve at the last moment from ignominious and 
capital execution than I felt on receiving this respite from 
further humiliation. 



146 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

'^ To you, especially, my dear brother — to the con- 
stancy of your friendship, I feel myself a debtor beyond 
any hope of payment. I shall endeavor to deserve the 
confidence you have had in my integrity and capacity by 
attention to any business that may be intrusted to me. 

^^I see by the papers that you have been intrusted with 
the removal of some Indians, a work that will occupy you 
during the summer and autumn. I hope you may find the 
trust to be both pleasant and profitable. Alas, for the 
poor Indian ! I fear that despite all political philan- 
thropy he must quit. The coming of the pale faces was 
his emphatic notice to leave, and though he lingers, yet 
the march of civilization is for him the march of doom. 
I trust that those whom you shall guide to new hunting 
grounds may be such as * see God in clouds and hear him 
in the winds,' and that they may find behind the cloud- 
capt hills or elsewhere, some humble heaven where ' Chris- 
tians do not thirst for gold.' 

** Ever truly, yours, L. L. Pinkerton." 



'* Lexington, Ky., January 5, 1874. 

^' My Dear General : — I would have replied to your 
last long ago, had I not contemplated a visit to Washing- 
ton before or during the recess of Congress. But even 
now I can not attempt an opinion on the merits of your 
late address at Hudson, except I look at it in a literary 
point of view merely. As an address, simply, it lacks 
nothing, and as to the matter of it, it is plain enough 
that some better adjustment of railroad and other corpo- 
rations to general interest is demanded, and f7tust be had. 
But how are these needed adjustments to be effected ? 
Here I break down. 

''It is dangerous, perhaps, to 'tamper' with organic 
laws. Yes ; and it is dangerous not to tamper with them. 
And what this side of heaven is not dangerous ? A con- 



TO GENERAL GARFIELp. 1 47 

stitution must stretch to accommodate itself to the opera- 
tion of ' permanent ' social forces, or it will be torn to 
fragments. Life is more than meat, the body more than 
raiment. The British Constitution so much, perhaps so 
justly lauded, consists in parliamentary enactments, in 
precedents that have been established by the national 
legislature. By this means, the constitution grows from 
generation to generation, as the nation grows. A consti- 
tution is not a cloak but a skin, so to speak— not a thing 
that can be made to order, and that a people can be 
forced to wear — it must grow out of the social and civil 
and political wants and necessities of those whose inter- 
ests are to be conserved by it, or it will be inoperative. 
You will remember John Locke's constitution for North 
Carolina, and the constitution or constitutions to which 
poor Louis XVI. and the French people swore. The phi- 
losopher's learned document might have suited a paradise, 
if one could have been found without a snake in it; and 
all the French constitutions and all the swearing did not 
prevent the reign of terror. But, I must stop this, for I 
have a strong suspicion that I am writing arrant nonsense. 

^^Ever yours, L. L. Pinkerton.'* 



148 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Letter from Gen. James A. Garfield — His estimate of Dr. Pinkerton's 
character — Letter from T. D. Butler. 

Washington, D. C, November 2, 1875. 
My Dear Friend: 

I cheerfully comply with your request to furnish a 
memorandum of my acquaintance with Dr. L. L. 
Pinkerton, and my estimate of his character. In one 
respect I do this at a disadvantage, for no man can 
thoroughly know another, unless his acquaintance 
dates from early life — the period in which the mold- 
ing forces are in most vigorous action. 

Still, I suspect that Dr. Pinkerton belonged to that 
small class of men whose characters were much more 
the result of inherent qualities than of external in- 
fluences. 

Pope says, truly, 

" 'T is education forms the common mind ; " 

but I incline to the opinion, recently expressed, that 
this doctrine is not true when applied to the tmcommon 
mind — to those marked types of character which are 
found both at the top and at the bottom of the scale. 
While, therefore, the fact that I did not know Dr. 
Pinkerton until he had passed middle life, does, to 
some extent, disqualify me from forming so just an 
estimate of his character as those can form who 
knew him from childhood, yet I suspect that, in his 



FROM GENERAL GARFIELD. I49 

case, the child was father to the man ; and that the 
marked characteristics of his later years appeared in 
his boyhood. 

I first saw the Doctor in 1861, at a meeting of the 
Christian Missionary Society, in Cincinnati. It was 
in the early months of the war ; and the society was 
a good deal agitated by a resolution which had been 
offered, expressing sympathy with the Government 
in its great struggle to preserve the Union. 

During the consideration of that resolution, I first 
saw the Doctor, and began to admire that clear sight- 
edness of intellect and heroic boldness of spirit which 
so strongly marked his character. With that meeting 
began a friendship between us which knew no diminu- 
tion, and the memory of which I still cherish as a 
most preciotis possession. 

During our acquaintance, he was walking in the 
lengthening shadows of his life's evening, and was 
frequently placed in situations of great adversity and 
trial ; but amidst them all, his qualities shone out 
with a strength and clearness which does not always 
appear in the days of health and prosperity. Night 
brings out the stars and displays the grandeur of the 
upper world. 

I. His Intellectual Character. 

He possessed an intellect of remarkable clearness 
and strength. He grasped a subject with singular 
force, and brought to its consideration a superior 
power of analysis. He was never content until he 
had reached the central truth out of which his theme 
grew. This fact constituted a chief charm of his 
sermons. He did not talk abotct his subject, but 



ISO LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

spoke out of the heart of it. He possessed another 
quality^ still more rare, which gave him great power 
as a writer and speaker. He had the artist's faculty 
of studying a subject in obedience to the laws of per- 
spective. Many speakers give equal emphasis to all 
points, great and small. But he always brought his 
leading ideas into the foreground, and threw upon 
them his strongest light. This gave him great 
power, while his poetic spirit and severe taste en- 
abled him to touch with pathos and color with tints 
of beauty the subordinate parts of his theme. His 
range of thought was great enough to attract people 
of widely dissimilar tastes and habits of mind. 

I became acquainted with his intellectual tastes 
from his sermons, his conversations, his letters, and 
especially from knowing the books he loved. His 
reading covered a wide range. He was one of that 
small number of men whose friends are willing and 
glad to have him make notes and comments on the 
margin of their books. Many volumes in my library 
have been made more precious to me by the pencil- 
ings he has left on their margins. Of my books, 
those which he read most were, '' Bacojis Essays'' 
Bosweirs ''Life of Johiisoii',' Draper's '' IntellecUial 
De^uelopment of Ettrope'' and " History of the Civil 
War in America^' Buckles' " Histo?y of Civilizationl' 
and ** The Letters of Jiniinsy 

There is much in the Doctor's style and vigor of 
thought which reminds us of the last named writer. 
It would not be difficult to find passages in his letters 
and published writings which w^ould fairly rival the 
keen and polished satire of that author who has so 
lono: stood " in the shadow of a name." 



FROM GENERAL GARFIELD. I5I 

It may be interesting to his friends to notice some 
of the tracks which the Doctor has left upon some 
of the volumes he delighted to read, I take as an 
example his pencilings upon my copy of Draper's 
" httellectiial Development of Etiroper A bold generali- 
zation, a significant fact of history or science, or a 
striking antithesis was sure to attract him ; and any 
attack upon the truth or sanctity of the Christian 
religion never failed to draw his fire. His mark 
of admiration is placed opposite many passages. 
This, for example, page 114 : 

'' Love is the longing of the soul for beauty, the attrac- 
tion of like for like, the longing of the divinity within us 
for the divinity beyond us j and the good, which is beauty, 
truth, justice, is God.'' 

Draper says, page 5 : 

'^ In the month of March the sun crosses the equator, 
dispensing his rays more abundantly over our northern 
hemisphere. Following in his train, a wave of verdure 
expands towards the pole. The luxuriance is in propor- 
tion to the local brilliancy. The animal world is also 
affected. Pressed forward, or solicited onward by the 
warmth, the birds of passage commence their annual mi- 
gration, keeping pace with the developing vegetation 
beneath. As autumn comes on, this orderly advance of 
light and life is followed by an orderly, retreat, and in its 
turn the southern hemisphere presents the same glorious 
l)henomenon. Once every year does the life of the earth 
l)ulsate ; now, there is an abounding vitality, now a deso- 
lation. But what is the cause of all this? It is only 
mechanical. The earth's axis of rotation is inclined to 
the plane of her orbit of revolution round the sun." 

At the foot of the page is this note: ** Yes ; but 



152 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON, 

matter is inert-— God is the primal source of all mo- 
tion." After exhibiting the contrast between Euro- 
pean and Oriental ideas, Draper says, page 41 : 

''From hence we may also infer how unphilosophical 
and vain is the expectation of those who would attempt to 
restore the aged populations of Asia to our own state/' 

Opposite this the Doctor wrote : ** Jerusalem Mis- 
sion ! ! " This note may not be an expression of his 
opinion of that mission, but the passage brought the 
subject to his mind. Speaking of the reign of law, 
Draper says, page 121 : 

'' The offspring is like the parent, not because it in- 
cludes an immortal typical form, but because it is exposed 
in development to the same conditions as was its parent. 
. . . It is no latent imperishable type, existing from 
eternity that is dominating in such developments ; but they 
take place as the issue of a resistless law, variety being 
possible under a change of circumstances.'* 

This is Dr. Pinkerton's note : 

' ' Draper is wrong ; else why should not the spores of the 
fungi produce an oak forest ? Circumstances modify, but 
can not radically change the type or species." 

As an example of his close discrimination in the 
use of words, I note the following. On page 193, 
Draper says : " On the south, beyond the mere verge 
of Africa, nothing was to be hoped for. It is the 
country in which man lived in degradation and is 
happy." 

The Doctor underscores the word *' happy," and 
writes, **I would say ' conte^tted' On Draper's 
principle, old Sam Johnson would say a bull is 
happier than a man.'' 



FROM GENERAL GARFIELD. 153 

In speaking of the corruption and degradation into 
which the Christian world had fallen in the days of 
the sons of Constantine, Draper says, page 214: 
*' Religion had disappeared, and theology had come 
in its stead." 

This is the penciled foot-note: *'Full of meaning 
for Disciples who stick in the bark." 

Here is a paragraph from one of the Doctor's let- 
ters, which has a pleasant flavor of autobiography, 
and at the same time exhibits his intellectual tastes: 

^^ Lexington, January 18, 1872. 
** . . , Yesterday, being neither able to read nor 
to let books alone, I spent much of my time tumbling the 
leaves first of one volume, then of another, not looking 
for any thing in particular, but desiring to find something 
that would divert me. Within an hour, in three separate 
volumes, by three different authors, I came upon the same 
quotation from Bacon — I thought it curious. About the 
first author, I am not certain ; but it was in lectures by 
Theodore Parker, or in the autobiography of Theodore 
Clapp, once a distinguished Unitarian minister of New 
Orleans. The second instance was in the life of John 
Fletcher, a famous Methodist preacher. The third was in 
Etudes Historiques^ by Chateaubriand. Of Chateaubriand 
I knew but little. He was, I think, a French ecclesiastic, 
and a writer of much note thirty-five years ago. Fifteen 
years ago, I sent for a work of his, titled The Genius of 
Christianity, but instead of that my friend brought me 
Studies in History y 

The Doctor then quotes a long passage contain- 
ing, among other things, the quotation from Bacon, 
which is this: '*A Httle science leads to atheism; 
much science, to religion.'* 



154 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

He concludes by saying : *' The next time you 
take cold, you may avenge yourself on me by send- 
ing me a quire of manuscript/* 

But after signing the letter, he appears to have 
been attracted by the eloquence and beauty of the 
closing paragraph of Chateaubriand's book — and, in 
a postscript, copied it in the original French. I 
translate his quotation as a specimen of the literature 
and thought which specially delighted him : 

'' When the dust, which had been raised by the tread 
of so many armies, which had arisen from the downfall of 
so many monuments, was cleared away; when the whirl- 
winds of smoke which had burst from so many burning 
cities was dissipated ; when the noise of the fall of the 
Roman Colossus had ceased, a cross was see?i, and at the 
foot of that cross a new world, A few priests with the 
Gospel in their hands, seated upon the ruins, reanimated 
society in the midst of the tombs, as Jesus Christ restored 
to life the children of those who believed in him/' 

He had also a keen appreciation of the quaint and 
pathic compositions of the new school of American 
humorists. In a letter of January, 1870, he says: 

*^If you have not seen Eveiy Saturday of two weeks 
ago, get it for Mrs. Garfield and have her read 'Tennes- 
see's Partner,' a little story of Brete Harte. Nothing in 
Dickens excels it. It will do for a Sunday morning hour, 
and contains more genuine religion than all the editorials 
of a dozen current religious journals." 

After speaking of other matters, he concludes the 

letter thus : 

*' But I have use for a quotation from * Tennessee's Part- 



FROM GENERAL GARFIELD. I55 

ner * to-day, and this I put on your lips : ^ And now, gen- 
tlemen, the fun'Ts done — my thanks and Tennessee's 
thanks for your trouble.' " 

I might multiply this class of notes to a great 
length, but I have quoted enough to show something 
of his intellectual tastes and habits of thought. 

It gave me great pleasure to follow his lines of 
study and hear his comments on the men he met 
and the books he read. There was a vigorous fresh- 
ness — an independence and originality in his strik- 
ing views and slashing criticisms which delighted 
even those who did not agree with him. The histor- 
ical characters which he most admired were the men 
of broad views, of brave heart, of bold achievement 
— men who despise the maxims of ordinary pru- 
dence when great principles are at stake ; and above 
all, men in whom manliness and independence shone 
out in the midst of opposition and adversity. 

II. His Religious and Political Character. 

In his religious opinions, it appears to me that two 
ideas possessed and controlled him. 

The first was his strong conception of the ineffa- 
ble majesty and justice of God. This gave a 
breadth and grandeur to all his views of religion, 
and filled him with the strongest sense of justice in 
all the relations of life. 

The second was his abiding trust in the conde- 
scension and love of Christ. This phase of his re- 
ligious belief developed a wealth of cenderness and 
sympathy which is not often seen united with con- 
victions so deep as to give him the appearance of a 



156 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Stern and severe censor of doctrines and conduct he 
did not approve. 

To the union of these two controlling ideas may 
be traced his marked character as a preacher. He 
could not tolerate that narrowness of spirit which 
contents itself with texts and forms ; which builds 
up little walls of separation, based on critical niceties 
of literal interpretation. In his denunciation of that 
class of religionists, he was severe and unsparing ; 
doubtless, sometimes, unjust. Few men have im- 
pressed me so deeply as he did, when, in his ser- 
mons, he dwelt upon the grand themes of religion as 
distinguished from the endless and barren disputes 
of theology. 

His political opinions were the logical result of his 
religious belief. I quote a passage from one of his 
letters of April, 1870: 

*' The strength of the Republican party is in its morals 
— in the great principles which, during the war, bore it 
up and sustained it near the throne itself of God, and 
since the war has kept it in sight of Calvary." 

He saw in slavery a perpetual assault upon jus- 
tice — upon the dearest rights of the poor and op- 
pressed. In the late rebellion he saw a formidable 
attempt to overthrow a government which he re- 
garded as the work of the best and wisest of men, 
who, under the providence of God, had builded a 
political structure to be the bulwark of public justice 
and the asylum for the humble and the poor. 

To him, the enemies of the Union were the ene 
mies of God, of justice, of mankind. Living in a 
community which was divided on this great ques- 



FROM GENERAL GARFIELD. 15/ 

tion, he was, perhaps, less tolerant of differences of 
opinion than those who lived further away from the 
scene of actual conflict. \^ 

But, however sharp may have been the antagonism 
between himself and his fellow-citizens, his bitterest 
opponent must have respected the boldness of his 
positions and the chivalric manliness of his charac- 
ter. 

He was a man of a most positive and intense 
nature. One might say of him as Cicero said of 
Cato, the censor — " Quidquid vult, valde viiUy 
His opinions were convictions ; and to conceal them 
because they might be unpopular, would have been, 
in his view, unmanly and base. He gloried in his 
work for the freedmen, because he believed it was a 
duty, and also because it required courage to carry 
it on. He loved truth, and in its vindication en- 
joyed a battle against odds. 

HI. His Social Life. 

But it was in the familiarity of social life that his 
friends learned to love him best. In the intervals of 
rest between battles — when his weapons were laid 
aside, and he sat down to the sweet companionship 
of books and friends — his spirit shone out with the 
gentle tenderness and sweetness of a woman's nature. 
His soul was filled with the love of the beautiful. 
The green fields of summer, the wonderful glory of 
our autumn foliage, all that was beautiful, awakened 
in him enthusiasm and worship. 

It is a high tribute to the character of a strong 
man, to say that little children loved him. I have 
seen but few men to whom children were so strongly 



158 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

attracted as to Dr. Pinkerton. They knew him at 
once as a familiar friend. He spent several weeks 
in Hiram, in the spring and summer of 1867, as a 
lecturer to the theological class in the college, and 
was frequently my guest. His coming was always 
welcomed by the uproarious joy of my two little boys. 
They found in him a jolly play-fellow who tumbled 
with them on the grass, and delighted them with 
quaint and beautiful stories. 

These phases of his character frequently appear in 
his letters, from which I quote a few paragraphs : 

^^ Lexington, April 27, 1870. 
. . ^'I wish you were here. We would roll down 
about an acre of Blue grass this afternoon. It grows under 
the cedars, and we could have both grass and shade." . . . 
Also under date of May 2, 1870: *^I have been under 
the cedars for the last hour, watching the 'cool and dewy' 
night as it slowly wrapped about the world ; and among 
other dreams that floated through my soul and floated it, 
was this: When Congress adjourns, you and your family 
will come and spend a month, at least, with me. The 
weather will be warm, and the children can play ad libitum, 
I will let the grass stand, and by the time you would get 
here, it will be a foot deep, so there will be no danger from 
tumbling. If ' Jim ' will climb, we will limit him to the 
cedars, out of which he could not very readily fall to hurt 
himself, as the lithe limbs spread thickly on all sides. The 
ladies can visit the neighboring towns and see the far- 
famed ^ Blue Grass Region ' in all its glory. You can rest, 
and ride, and fish, and make one or two or three speeches. 
Your old ones will do well enough for these scalawags — all 
except one. I shall want you to deliver one address in 
the Odd Fellow's Hall in this city, on the relations 
between free popular government, or any just government, 



FROM GENERAL GARFIELD. 1 59 

and the ^Universal Religion,'' those principles of moral 
rectitude that are as old as the principles of geometry, and 
that will endure as long as any thing endures. . . 
Shall this, like so much else, remain but idle reverie, or 
shall we make it more than a dream? Think of it.'* 

Here follows a passage to the children, in which 
the Doctor alludes to the invitation he was always 
sure to receive — to "play bear" with one of the boys : 

'^ June 23, 1872. 
. . ** Give my love to Harry and MoUie, and tell 
'Jim ' that I want him to get his hide thickened up by the 
time I see him, for my teeth are getting very sharp. I will 
give him a turn at * bear ' when we meet. If he can man- 
age to get himself well strapped about three times a week, 
it will do much to put him in order for the encounter. 

**God bless the dear little fellows. They are in the 
morning twilight, I, in that of the evening ; and so the 
dwellers in the twilight meet and are mated.'' 

One would hardly believe that this joyous and jolly 
message was penned by the same hand, which about 
the same time wrote this : 

** Several days ago, I sent you the ^Kentucky Statesman^ 
containing a squib that I set off under the noses of certain 
scribes and Pharisees of these parts. It made them squirm ; 
for they felt the heat and smelt the sulphur. I owe you an 
apology for the seeming trenchant style of the thing; but 
really no other method of treatment will do any good — 
you can not pierce leviathan with a straw." 

In his nature, was the rarest combination of inde- 
pendence, strength, courage, severity, gentleness, in- 
flexible persistency, affectionate tenderness, sadness 
and jollity, I have ever known. Those who knew him 
14 



l60 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

as an intimate friend will search long and travel far 
before they will find another like him. 

Very truly, yours, J. A. Garfield. 

Rev. John Shackleford, 

Lexington, Ky, 



Dear Brother Shackleford: 

That a faithful and competent record of the life of 
Dr. Pinkerton should be written and presented to the 
generation he so heroically served, and preserved for 
the generation to come, for which he also manfully 
labored, is to me a consideration of no small mo- 
ment, and inspires me with pleasure and confidence 
that your undertaking will result in constraining jus- 
tice and grateful honor to the memory of a "just 
man '* — a friend of God and man. The life of such a 
man as he, should never be permitted to drop into 
oblivion, nor to be bounded by one or a dozen gener- 
ations, for the world needs to become acquainted 
with it, that the true springs of his singularly honest, 
manly^ and heroic career may be known to his honor^ 
and that it may impart most wholesome encourage- 
ment to other less conspicuous and struggling lives. 

An eminently unselfish life deserves a biographer ; 
for besides being a rarity, it is the only medicament 
that can effectually reach and correct the world-wide 
selfishness of our race. A noble life is always an 
unselfish life, yea more, it is a sacrificial life. It 
spends and is spent. I therefore rejoice that you 
have taken up this task, for no living man knew Dr. 
Pinkerton so thoroughly, and none loved him and 
honored him as you did. 



FROM THOMAS D. BUTLER. l6l 

If a man drifts with the tide, he need not sacrifice 
himself or any thing that belongs to him. He is 
popular and crowds sing his praise. And when his 
unprofitable years are ended, the world, for all practi- 
cal purposes, can afford to cover up his name and 
body in the same grave without ever subsequently 
exhuming either. It is, however, quite otherwise 
with a conspicuously valuable life, that has been con- 
secrated with pure and noble purposes to the uplift- 
ing and blessing of the world. The impulse, the 
manliness, the achievements, and the consequent 
sacrifices of such a life, can not remain unwritten 
without incurring incalculable loss and depriving the 
student of history of a bright example of the genuine 
substance and the meritorious in human character. 

It is the sacrificial element that alone is potential 
to transform the slave -into a freeman. The world 
demands that the reformer — the friend of his race — 
shall mark every step he takes in the development 
of his ideal with the sorrows and groans of his own 
struggling spirit. And even these will not suffice, 
for his sacrificial burden must press him into his 
grave before it will consider the sort of man that he 
was, or begin to contemplate the beneficent life within 
him that was unfolded, through so many laborious and 
patient years, before their eyes. It was so with Jesus, 
and has been with all, who through the ages have 
sought to expose the wrong, and lead men up to the 
right ; and will be so with all who shall come to know 
the glory of a noble life, and by the power of that 
life shall be pledged to the overthrow of whatsoever 
is false and unjust. 

During the last decade particularly. Dr. Pinkerton 



1 62 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

lived such a sacrificial life ; and with his conception 
of the duty and responsibility laid upon him to mak:. 
his work true before God, and thus powerful to the 
strengthening of others, he was unavoidably forced 
to grapple w^ith great moral issues in society and the 
church, and to withstand pernicious men about him. 
He acquitted himself so manfully,- that bad men who 
entered the circle of his observation were made to 
tremble, and feel the force of a wholesome check upon 
their actions. The battles w^hich he fought in behalf 
of truth and righteousness, and which before his ar- 
mor was laid aside brought many transgressors to 
their senses, wnll go on as long as error and wrong 
need an adversary, and a good man's w^ork and name 
continue to be sacred things with the people. 

For years I have loved him with peculiar enthusi- 
asm and devotion, ev^en w^th the love of a son for a 
father. It w^as a matter of grateful pride that so 
many of his last days were spent with me ; that at 
morning, noon, and evening he so often gathered 
w^ith us around the social board and made our home 
the theater of his inimitable talks. That house, al- 
though inhabited by strangers, is still redolent wnth 
the incense of his wonderful prayers ; and precious to 
me and mine because it gave him shelter and repose. 
It was there that I saw so many revelations of the 
sweetness and strength of his love, and of the sublime 
attainments he had reached in the divine life. Emi- 
nently a devout man, he talked with God with won- 
derful reverence and freedom. He prayed with a 
simplicity, fervor, conscious acceptance, and nearness 
of access to the divine presence, that were singularly 
expressive of the honest life he lived before God and 



FROM THOMAS D. BUTLER. 163 

man, and illustrative of the intimate spiritual relation- 
ship he cherished with all the indescribable fealty and 
aspiration of which his ample nature was capable. He 
was an unrelenting opponent of shams, frauds, and 
falsities wherever found, and paused not to count the 
cost of their exposure. He loved the true and the 
good with all his heart, and labored hard to lead 
others to love the same things. Even the particular 
event which brought him into the most sympathetic 
and confidential relations with me, may be regarded 
as a fair general illustration of his character. Said 
he : '' I believe that an immeasurable outrage has been 
attempted against you. I want you to let me see the 
papers.'' Some days afterwards he told me that he 
would expose the conspiracies and outrageous con- 
duct of certain men, if he had to spend seven years 
in the work. He finished his self-imposed task, and 
none knew so well as " certain men " how faith- 
fully he did perform it. I can never forget the free- 
ness and fullness of his loving labor at that very try- 
ing time — for it was an emergency that tried men's 
souls, and very few endured the test in any way com- 
parably with him. 

The gentleness and tenderness of his love for the 
helpless and for little children were most extraordi- 
nary. His soul was always ready to go out to them 
in all their joyous and sorrowful experiences. The 
traits of his character were Christ-like, both in the 
affluence of his loving and the steadfastness of his 
opposition to modern phariseeism and every species 
of wrong-doing. 

He was as simple as a child, and studied children 
with a lively interest. He seemed to take them 



164 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTOX. 

closer to his heart than larger people. He was fre- 
quently dwelling on their little lives — glad to partic- 
ipate in their pleasures, and as much as in him lay to 
promote them. Their accidents, sorrows, and dan- 
gers, struck a sad chord in his heart. He appeared 
to divine the thoughts and ways of children, hence 
he was drawn to them in great compassion and sym- 
pathy. He said to me, ^' It is to me most conclusive 
evidence of God's providence that children survive 
the accidents and ills of childhood.'' And when this 
lovine: friend of little children died, manv bovs and 
girls mourned for him, and wept most of all that 
they would see his face no more. I know mine 
did.' 

The humility of Dr. Pinkerton was also remarka- 
ble. While he looked up to no man, he never looked 
down upon any because of social position or abun- 
dance of accidental advantages or disadvantages. 
He was the impartial friend of his fellow-man. I 
have often thought that the unusual degree in which 
this characteristic virtue prevailed in him was in- 
spired by the lofty themes upon which he loved to 
meditate — the infinite attributes of Jehovah, and the 
revelations of the divine nature set forth in the 
earthly life and ministry of Jesus. How he loved 
the Jesus of Bethlehem and Nazareth — the man of 
sorrows and the Christ of Calvary ! How he wor- 
shiped and honored the King, who, in his glory, 
reigns to love and succor the helpless and suffering 
of earth! The gospels possessed for him an inex- 
haustible fascination, for they furnished the precious 
facts of that wonderful life upon w^hich his soul fed, 
and by which his- life was moulded into such fineness 



FROM THOMAS D. BUTLER. l6$ 

of texture, and such strength and compactness of 
nerve and muscle. 

He would sit at the feet of the humblest life — 
even a child's life — to learn some new lesson of 
God's dealings with human souls, and to see Jesus in 
a fuller and a richer light. It can truly be said of 
him that he walked with Jesus, for no avenue of 
labor and reproach was ever too lowly and unattract- 
ive, if only he could find his Saviour there in the pris- 
oners of want and affliction. And so in the alleys 
and hovels, and along the highways, without regard 
to age, color, sex, or previous condition^ the poor and 
wretched will miss his friendly salutation, his helping 
hand, his judicious council, and his ready defense 
and protection, and will long remember him with 
gratitude and honor. And yet Dr. Pinkerton was 
stricken with intense, indignation whenever he be- 
held moral cowardice, and every species of wrong, 
injustice, and cruelty. In such times his noble soul 
was in arms, and he would castigate the money- 
changers in the temple, and the ** hypocrites " and 
" whited sepulchers " in the church of God. 

In the main current of his life, Dr. Pinkerton was 
one of the manliest, purest, most self-sacrificing, and 
therefore most Christ-like of men. His moral qual- 
ities were quick and sturdy, and like Paul he was im- 
movably fixed for truth and righteousness, while con- 
fusion and defeat fell upon his opponents. There 
were so many traits in his character that corre- 
sponded, so far as the human could be assimilated to 
the divine, to the character of Jesus the Christ, that 
it will ever be a profitable pleasure to me to trace 
them, as it will be to others who were privileged 



l66 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

with such an intimate fellowship with him as to have 
known the splendors of the spirit which animated 
him, and the sublime ideal which enriched the work 
and purpose of his life. 

Through all coming time, I and my family will 
carry him in our hearts as a most blessed memory. 
His dear face, no longer sad and weary, but in a halo 
of peace and restfulness, will be ''a joy forever" to 
look upon, and one of the choicest treasures that 
earth will ever be able to afford us, while we remem- 
ber how much he was to us while living, and how 
faithfully he loved us until death. 

To meet him in the eternal world, with the great 
and good of all ages, will fill up the expectation of 
our glory. Such men as Dr. Pinkerton was, never 
fail of receiving " grace," *' much grace," and *' more 
grace" here; and '* great glory" and ''an exceeding 
weight of glory " hereafter. 

" Here is the patience of the saints : here are they 
that keep the commandments of God, and the faith 
of Jesus. And I heard a voice from heaven saying 
unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead who die in the 
Lord from henceforth, saith the Spirit. Yea, chat 
they may rest from their labors ; and their works do 
follow them." Fraternally, your brother, 

Thomas D. Butler. 

New York, July 20, 1875. 



TRIP TO THE MOUNTAINS. 167 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Trip to the mountains — Last sermon — Illness — Letter to General Gar- 
field — Visits Ashland and Woodlands — Letter to a " Little Friend " — 
Opinions of physicians — Celebrates the Lord's death — Last words — 
Death — Funeral sermon. 

I 

IN the month of October, 1874, Dr. Pinkerton was 
ordered by the Post-office Department into one of 
the mountainous districts of Kentucky to look after 
some irregularities in the mail service. He returned 
about the last of the month quite unwell, but on the 
succeeding Sunday he preached in the Carty Hall to 
a little company of Disciples meeting there for wor- 
ship. This was his last sermon, and a very beautiful 
and impressive one it was — fitting close to a faithful 
ministry of forty years. He painted for us the glory 
of the autumn woods as he had witnessed it in his 
mountain travels, and then he turned to consider 
the declining years, when the shadows lengthen and 
man's life falls into "the sere and yellow leaf;" and 
then the unfading splendors and glories of the eter- 
nal life, which neither the eye hath seen nor the 
heart of man imagined. All who heard him were 
greatly moved by the pathos and beauty of his dis- 
course. 

After this he grew rapidly worse, and the case was 

soon regarded by the physicians a painfully critical 

one. Finally, however, temporary relief came, and 

he was once more able to ride out. His situation 

15 



1 68 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

at this time is thus set forth in a letter to General 
Garfield : 

'^ Lexington, Ky., Dec. ii, 1874. 

'^My Dear General: — After one has been five weeks 
in the hands of the doctors and the women, his miserable 
frame swathed in sheets and blankets, and plied with mus- 
tard, blisters, poultices, and had thrust into his quaking 
stomach all sorts of pills, solutions, alteratives, and one 
knows not what else — after all this, what is left of his man- 
hood would not be of much moment in a hand-to-hand 
encounter with a Cyclops. Such has been my fate. I am 
now able to walk about the room for a few moments at a 
time, and begin to relish food, so that it is pretty clear 
that I shall voyage yet awhile on life's troubled sea, but 
with rigging and hull much damaged. 

'^ This has occurred : a section of one of the large intes- 
tines, called the colon, where it passes from the right to the 
left side, just below the ribs and contiguous to the liver, 
has become, through inflammation, adherent to the latter 
organ — it may be permanently. At all events it will be 
long before the adhesion can be resolved. 

*'And what then? I know that the ^ what then' is of 
Httle moment to all the millions of earth, two or three 
dozen persons, at most, excepted. But to that small frac- 
tion of the race the outcome of the matter is of the first 

consequence 

'^ Truly yours, L. L. PINKERTON.'' 

He spent a day of Christmas week at Ashland 
with Mr. Bowman, and was in fine spirits, much to 
ihe delight of all the company. On the 8th of Jan- 
uary he rode over to the Woodlands and dined with 
me. He was very weak, and I clearly saw during 
this visit that he was losing the hold he seemed to 
have gained on life, and that instead of growing bet- 



LETTER TO A "LITTLE FRIEND.'' 1 69 

ter, as we had all hoped, he was, beyond all question, 
growing rapidly worse. 

From the following touching letter of January 9th, 
to a little son of Thomas D. Butler, of Louisville, it 
is manifest that he was not unconscious of the ap- 
proaching '* hour," and that already there had been 
granted to him "glimpses of that far-off country*' 
to which the Lord his God was about to call him. 

*^ Lexington, Ky., Jan. 9, 1875. 

*' My Dear Little Friend : — I got your very kind let- 
ter written on the 28th day of December last. I was glad 
to know that you remembered me on Christmas-day. I 
could not recollect whether I thought of you in particular, 
but I suppose I did, for I thought of a great many of my 
cherished friends and of their families. Among these 
cherished ones I reckon all that live under the same roof 
with you. 

^^I thought, too, of One who was a little child at Bethle- 
hem in Judea 1875 years ago; and of his having blessed all 
little children after he became a ' man of sorrows,' saying, 
^ Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven.' The story of Bethlehem and Naza- 
reth and Gethsemane and Calvary will never be lost out 
of human history nor out of the human heart. You will 
understand this when you are older. 

'^I hope you are very kind to Grandma, and your sick 
mamma, and to your sweet sister Fannie. It is a great thing 
for a boy to have a sister, and he ought to study to make 
her happy. 

^'l have been trying to get to Louisville for a week or 
two past, but the weather has been generally cold, and I 
am still very weak. I think it doubtful about my ever be- 
ing well again. Very few know what ails me, but I know 
myself. 



I/O ■ LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

^'1 would like to drink some of your grandma's tea. 
We have black- tea here in Lexington, but I can not get 
any like hers. After all, this may be mere conceit. One 
of my troubles is that I can not eat ; or if I do, my stom- 
ach seems unable to digest any thing. 

** I want to see you all very much ; but I could not play 
with you now, nor nurse you, if I was with you. 

*^ I can not write long letters, although, strangely enough, 
my hand trembles but very little, as you can see by these 
pen-strokes. 

^^ You will give my love to all — to Grandma and Grand- 
pa, and Frank and Fannie, and to your father; to your 
mother my tenderest sympathy and love. Tell her I have 
glimpses of that far-off ^country where the inhabitants do 
not sicken, and where there is no more death, neither sor- 
row nor crying,'' She will probably wonder why I under- 
scored that last word, should she read this. Well, in my 
great weakness, I am crying now. 

*' I am, my dear Burridge, your true friend, 

^'L. L. PINKERTON. 

*'P. S.— I forgot to say that I had heard of the little 
babe at your house, and that I was glad that he, too, got 
a Christmas-gift." 

On Tuesday the 14th of January, his son, S. D. 
Pinkerton, drove with him to my gate. He was too 
unwell to come in, and had simply called to ask me 
to spend the evening with him for a confidential 
interview. Of course I complied with his request. 
During the interview he expressed his decided convic- 
tion that " his time Tiad come," and that recovery was 
impossible. He asked me to see his physicians and 
get from them a candid opinion as to his situation. 
The opinions were unfavorable — his old friend and 



CELEBRATES THE LORD's SUPPER. I/I 

family physician, Dr. Joseph Smith, stating frankly 
that in his judgmxent the disease was scirrhus of the 
liver, and that it had made so rapid progress that 
the end could not be far off. 

On Thursday the 14th I told him what the phy- 
sicians had said. In the meantime, however, I had 
written at his dictation a letter to my father, Dr. 
John Shackelford, of Maysville, Ky., giving him an 
account of the symptoms and asking his opinion. 
There was little hope in the answer ; after making 
some suggestions as to treatment, to be submitted 
to the attending physicians, he closed by saying, 
" Tell our dear friend the Doctor that in any event 
I trust he may be able to rely wholly on the mercy 
of God and the merits of Christ." He knew the 
great friendly heart which had dictated this most 
pious Christian message, and the depths of his being 
were stirred — in his weakness he sobbed like a child. 

After this his old friend Dr. Bush was called in, 
and, as he still had some slight hope, he commenced 
an active treatment for his relief, but all in vain. No 
numan skill could arrest the hand of Death. 

On the 1 8th of January he celebrated for the last 
time the Lord's Supper^ and thus, in his own express- 
ive language, *'he renewed his vows and confessions 
as he drew near the gateway to the Silent Land." 
Of the little company who were present at this most 
holy season, two — President Milligan and Dr. Joseph 
Smith — speedily followed him to the great feast on 
high, there to meet their Redeemer and to abide in 
his presence evermore. 

From this time forward he looked Death fairly in 
the face. He arranged his business carefully, that 



1/2 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

he might dismiss it from his mind. He dictated 
messages to distant friends — among others, to his 
friend and brother D. R. Van Buskirk, quoting for 
him a line from *' Paradise Lost," book third, but in 
so feeble a voice that I could not distinctly catch it. 
I think, however, it was the one hundred and forty- 
second line — "Love without end, and, without meas- 
ure, grace " — and that he quoted it for the expression, 
" Love without end," to indicate that his own love 
was ever-enduring. His heart especially turned to 
his invalid brother Elisha and his dear wife, ** Sister 
Ellen,'* then in Florida, and he sent them a touching 
line of " remembrance and farewell." 

He received most kindly the friends and brethren 
who called on him, some of whom he believed even 
to the last had treated him very cruelly. It is a 
matter of profound thankfulness to God that ere he 
passed through "the mighty portals of everlasting 
life" Christ loosened the arrows that the archers 
had shot into his sensitive spirit and that they 
dropped out this side of Jordan. He died at peace 
with all men. 

He expressed himself to the very end in his quaint, 
original way. To a \-isitor who remarked to him that 
it was a serious thing to he brought face to face with 
death, he replied, " Yes, as far removed from a joke 
as it is possible to conceive." When he had grown 
so weak that he could not speak save in a whisper. 
Dr. Bush uttered some brave and rather hopeful 
words to him, and Dr. Pinkerton whispered back, 
"You have a good deal of the bull-dog in you." 
"Yes," said Bush, "and you have a good deal in 
you." 



LAST WORDS — DEATH. I73 

His children were with him, and he tenderly gave 
them his blessing and exhorted them to dwell in love. 
He followed his sorrowful wife with his eyes as she 
went in and out of the room, and once he said to 
me, in a whisper, ** I feel distressed beyond measure 
for my poor wife ; this will be a crushing blow to 
her." 

He was troubled about me ; he felt that my friend- 
ship for him and adherence to his fortunes had in- 
volved me in some trials and some harassing per- 
sonal controversies which otherwise I might have 
escaped. I assured him that he need not give him- 
self any anxiety about my trials on his behalf; that 
at the most they had amounted to little, and, such as 
they were, they had been freely and cheerfully borne, 
and more than compensated by the incalculable ad- 
vantages of his great friendship and manly example. 
His dying words of immortal love to me I keep hid 
away in my heart as a benison from heaven. 

He spoke much of his faith and hope. To use 
his own beautiful words, " Christ was all that was 
left him, and he found this sufficient for eternity it- 
self. Calvary, and the fruitless seeking of the Uving 
among the dead on that first day of the week — these 
are the springs of hope to the dying Christian. He 
has no resounding stories of his own performances 
to blurt into the ears of heaven." 

He thought that he should die on Monday night, 
and requested me to remain near him : in the gray 
dawning of the morning he turned to me and said, 
*' Wrestling still." After much suffering '' the last 
great darkness fell upon him," on Thursday, January 
28th, just before sunrise, and God turned for him the 



174 ^II^E OF L. L. PJNKERTON. 

shadow of death into the morning light of an eternal 
day. 

**The great work laid upon his three-score years 
Is done, and well done. If we drop our tears, 

Who loved him as few men were ever loved. 
We mourn no blighted hope nor broken plan 

With him whose life stands rounded and approved 
In the full growth and stature of a man." 

The funeral services were held on Saturday, Janu- 
ary 30th, in the Main Street Church. His old friend, 
Brother R. C. Ricketts, read the account of the jour- 
ney to Emmaus after the resurrection, and prayed; 
the writer then preached a sermon of which the follow- 
ing report was published in the Christian Standard: 

IN MEMORIAM. 



**But now is Christ risen from the dead and become the first-fruits of them 
that slept." — I Cor. v. 20. 

My friend who is now with Christ in glory has elected 
me to the melancholy and painful but most blessed office 
of paying the last tribute of affection at his open grave. 
To those who knew him well and loved him I can speak 
no word of praise that will intensify their affection or ren- 
der more hallowed his memory. Of those who knew him 
slightly, and those who have been partially alienated from 
him in these latter years, I ask a patient hearing and a sus- 
pension of judgment till I have finished my homely story. 

The maxim, '-'De moriuis nil nisi bonum^^ — Say nothing 
but good of the dead — he repudiated, and he charged me 
to forget it on this occasion. If, then, I say little save 
that which is good, it will not be because he is dead, but 
because to my friendly eyes there appeared in him so little 
save that which is good aud true and beautiful that I can 
not speak other than tender word.^. 



FUNERAL SERMON. I 75 

Dr. I.. L. Pinkerton was born January 28, 1812, in Bal- 
timore County, Maryland. In his tenth year his father 
removed to Brooke County, Virginia, and here he spent 
ten years of his life — '* years of hard, incessant, ill-requited 
toil.'' 

He united with the church in 1830, under the personal 
ministry of Alexander Campbell. In 1831 he settled in 
Butler County, Ohio, and taught a school. In 1833 he 
was married to Miss Sarah A. Ball, who has been his most 
faithful and beloved wife for more than forty years. After 
his marriage he studied medicine. He continued the study 
and practice of medicine until 1837, at which time he en- 
tered upon the ministry of the Word of Life, and he soon 
became a man of marked power in the pulpit. He was a 
most able, eloquent, and devoted preacher. From the be- 
ginning of his ministry to the time of his death his preach- 
ing was singularly instructive and convincing. In the judg- 
ment of many persons, myself among the number, he stood 
unrivaled among the preachers of the Reformation as a 
public speaker. 

In 1 841 he removed to Lexington, Kentucky, and be- 
came pastor of the Christian Church in this city, and he 
remained here until 1843. During his ministry here was 
built this house, in which his mute lips to-day speak so 
eloquently to all gentle hearts. 

In 1845 h^ moved to Midway, Kentucky, where he re- 
mained until i860, teaching and preaching. During his 
residence in Midway the Orphan School was erected, and 
in large measure through his instrumentality. The con- 
ception of this noble charity sprung from his generous 
heart and fertile brain. 

In i860 he was elected to a professorship in Kentucky 
University, and he removed in that year to Harrodsburg. 
When the University was moved to Lexington he came 
with it. 

During the war he served for awhile as surgeon in the 



176 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Federal army, but was disabled by sun-stroke, from the 
effects of which he never fully recovered. 

In 1866 he resigned his professorship, and acted as 
agent for the Freedmen's Bureau. 

In 1869 he became joint editor and proprietor with my- 
self of the Independent Monthly. 

For more than a year past he has acted as Special Mail 
Agent. He did not, however, abandon the ministry, but 
preached all the while wherever opportunity offered, and 
oftentimes with great power and acceptance. 

In the early morning of the 28th of January — his birth- 
day — he passed peacefully to the eternal rest. 

Such, in brief outline, is the life of the man whose loss 
we deplore. Crowded into it are many details of stirring 
interest which I can not now narrate, but which it may be 
proper at some future day to give to the public. 

I desire at present to speak particularly of his character. 
The Savior says that the two great commandments on 
which hang the law and the prophets are these : Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy mind, and soul, 
and strength ; and the second is like unto it — Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself. 

[ never knew a man who seemed to me more nearly to 
meet the demands of this twofold law than Dr. Pinkerton. 
His love for God and his communion with him were pass- 
ing strange. Like Enoch of old, he walked with God in 
holy friendship. How wonderfully he prayed ! No one 
in prayerever carried me so near the throne of God. 

In the early morning it was his wont, not as a prescribed 
duty, but by the impulse of his own loving soul, to hymn 
the praise of his Maker; and often in our travels, when 
we have been sojourning together, I have been called from 
my morning slumbers by hearing his melancholy voice 
singing in a minor key the wonders of redeeming grace. 

I can not express in any language so beautiful and touch- 



FUNERAL SERMON. 1/7 

ing as his own, his abiding sense of God's presence, and 
pity, and love. 

He says: *^The ^Father who is in heaven' sees the 
sparrow that falls, and hears the young ravens cry in the 
gorges of the mountains, * where no man cometh, or has 
come since the making of the world.' He dwells with 
the lowly and contrite ones, who here, in sorrow, journey 
grave-ward and look through blinding tears toward an 
everlasting home ; and He is personally and potentially 
present with them who dwell on the last created orb that 
safely circles along the borders of the outlying, infinite 
chaos, where naught is but God, and space, and duration, 
and everlasting solitudes. 

^* In our attempts to pray we think not of Him under 
any form, nor as being even the smallest conceivable dis- 
tance away from us ; for * in Him we live and move and 
have our being.' ^ We can not go where universal love 
smiles not around ; ' and so, in trembling hope, we rest in 
God." 

And I may remark just here that this God he trusted is 
the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ our Savior. 

He loved his fellow-men with unspeakable tenderness. 
This love was not a mere theory of human rights or of 
human duty, but a real, sincere, and kindly practical in- 
terest in the happiness of all men. 

He quickly entered into the plans and purposes, hopes 
and fears, joys and sorrows of all the men he met ; and he 
had a singularly happy way of manifesting his sympathy 
that drew all hearts to him. 

His ear was always open to the story of sorrow and want, 
and he was ever ready to help the afflicted to the extent of 
his ability; and if silver and gold he had not, or the suf- 
ferer had no such need, then such as he had he gave — the 
sympathy and counsel of a great Christian soul. 

Lately, in one of his journeyings in one of the outlying 



1/8 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

rugged places of Kentucky, he met a poor man. a Baptist, 
who had been uiaimed by the fall of a tree. The sufferer 
had a large and helpless family, and his pale face and tale 
of trouble touched the Doctor's heart with pity, specially 
in view of the oncoming winter, and he helped him as far 
as he could. When he came home he told the story to 
Brother Woolfolk, the pastor of the Baptist Chm-ch in this 
city, and asked his aid for the suffering brother. 

Brother Woolfolk laid the matter before his congregation, 
and took up a handsome collection, which was handed to 
the Doctor and forwarded by him to the afflicted man. 
This is only one instance of a thousand of his kindly inter- 
est in suffering mortals. Often, when traveling, he would, 
if his means were straitened, give a beggar his dinner or 
supper in this wise : He would say, '' Supper to-night (or 
dinner, as the case might be) will cost fifty cents : now I 
will go fifty cents on him and do without the dinner, and 
be all the better for the fast." Once I remember some- 
thing like the following : In a humorous way he suggested 
to me that we should make a speculation cut of a poor fel- 
low, by each giving him twenty-five cents and going with- 
out supper, thereby realizing a quarter each for ourselves. 

How many hearts he won in the social circle and in the 
school-room by his wonderful love I He was a rapturously 
welcome guest at a thousand firesides, and his coming was 
hailed with delight by all, both old and young. The chil- 
dren gathered about him with joy, and the young men and 
women listened with untiring delight to his beautiful and 
loving words. The news of his death will carry tender 
sorrow to many homes. 

His conversation was remarkable in many respects, but 
its informing spirit was love. 

*' Thy converse drew us with delight, 
The men of rathe and riper years ; 
The feeble soul, a batint of fears, 
JForgot his weakness in thy sight. 



FUNERAL SERMON. 1/9 

**On thee the loyal-hearted hung, 

The proud were half-disarmed of pride, 
Nor cared the serpent at thy side 
To flicker with his treble tongue. 

*' The stern were mild when thou wert by, 
The flippant put himself to school 
And heard thee, and the brazen fool 
Was softened, and he knew not why." 

His sense of justice was strong. The rights, interests, 
honor and happiness of Essex, the old black man who 
worked with him in his garden, were as dear to him as the 
rights, interests, honor and happiness of the President of 
the United States. 

The sunlight of his presence fell on the hearthstones of 
many of the poor, both white and black, in Lexington and 
Midway, and when he bade them good-bye their kindly 
blessings rested on his good gray head. God bless and 
hallow his memory ! Oh, how I love to think of his cheer- 
ful ways ! 

He loved his enemies, too. A strong, decided man, he 
had many conflicts in his life ; but when the waves of sor- 
row swept over the hearthstone of his foe, Dr. Pinker ton 
was sad. 

He loved his country — his whole country; and this love 
was with him almost a religion. 

Burns said that reading the Life of Wallace when a boy 
had poured into his veins a tide of patriotism that would 
boil along there until the flood-gates of life were shut in 
eternal rest : so Dr. Pinkerton said that reading the Life 
of Washington by old Parson Weems had made him an in- 
curable patriot. 

He was not a partisan in politics. He hesitated at al- 
most every forward step taken in solution of the Southern 
question, seeing in any event great trouble and fearing 
great disaster. The espousal of the cause of the black 
man was with him a matter, not of i)arty politics, but of 



l80 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

religious principle ; and what he said and wrote and did 
on the black man's behalf was prompted by the fear of 
God and the love of souls. When he accepted the agency 
of the Freedmen's Bureau, at the close of the war, it was 
with the hope that he might be a kind of mediator be- 
tween the freedmen and their old masters; but finding he 
could not execute the functions of his office except by bay- 
onet, he resigned. 

He desired to see the widows and orphans of Confeder- 
ate soldiers pensioned along with the Federals. 

No man longed more than he for the era of good-will. 
Of course he always stood for his conscientious convic- 
tions ; these he would not surrender nor abate. 

And now^ however any of you may have differed from 
him in opinion as to the issues involved in the war and 
growing out of it, every true heart must certainly admire 
the manliness with which, in the face of fiery opposition, 
he maintained what he believed to be right. 

He had a most tender love for the Christian Church, 
and especially for the Christian churches in Kentucky, 
which he himself had helped to plant and water. Almost 
his latest breath was a desire that they might be pure, 
good, spiritual — holy places unto the Lord Almighty. 
Oh ! my brethren of the Christian churches of Kentucky, 
he loved you truly more than you can ever know, and the 
misunderstanding between you and him was the cruelest 
grief of his later life. Did he speak bitter words against 
you? They were wrung from a sensitive spirit jealous of 
your love. Did he oppose fiercely what appeared to him 
to be unwise counsels? It was only because of the inten- 
sity of his conviction and the fervor of his affection. Es- 
pecially his heart turned to the church at Midway, for 
which he had so long and faithfully labored. But I can 
not linger on this topic ; the emotion that kindles within 
me forbids all further utterance. 



FUNERAL SERMON. l8l 

Hushed, hushed in the presence of this holy death 

be all words of strife ! 
Banished all thoughts of bitterness ! 

He believed that the principles of the Reformation, es- 
pecially as set forth in the Declaration and Address of 
Thomas Campbell, had in them the seeds of great good 
for the human race, and he held to them with great te- 
nacity. 

While he loved his own people, his spirit was eminently 
catholic. He was in no sense a sectarian, and across every 
gulf of opinion and controversy he extended a fraternal 
hand to all who loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity — 
to all who called upon God out of a pure heart. Many in 
all denominations hailed him with delight as a brother. 

He was a most independent, frank, outspoken man. The 
word on his lips ever answered to the thought in his heart. 
He was beyond all fear of mortals. He never cringed to 
man — he was never white-lipped with fear. He could not 
be politic. If ever he tried diplomacy, he was like David 
with SauFs armor on — he could not move. He was strong 
only in the shepherd^s simple garb, and with the sling of 
truth ; and when thus armed, woe to any Goliath of false- 
hood, of meanness, or of cruelty, that stood in the way ! 

He was thoroughly honest with himself. He never 
would attempt to answer argument by an evasion. Every 
question was to be fairly met. He was acquainted with 
the whole range of modern thought, and knew the doubts 
and difficulties as to the Christian faith suggested by mod- 
ern criticism. Determined to satisfy himself fully, as for 
as possible, on matters vital to the soul, he walked some- 
times on an anxious way. 

**He would not make his judj^^ment ])lind, 
He faced the spectres of the mind 
And laid them ; tliiis he came at length 
To find a stronger faith his own ; 



102 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

And Power was with him in the night. 
Which makes the darkness and the light, 
And dw^ells not m the light alone.'" 

He always clung to Christ, and his faith in him became 
brighter and stronger with ripening thought and advancing 
years. 

Cherished opinions and theories he was sometimes forced 
to surrender, but he ever found Christ, the Rock of Ages, 
strong, secure, sufficient. 

Had he, then, no faults? He had, but they were as 
spots on the sun. He was impatient to see results — not 
sufficiently willing to wait; and this sometimes led to hasty 
judgment, and may be to inconsiderate action : but he 
was great, brave, humble, faithful, forgiving, pure — a 
mighty man of God. 

Just before his death, his eldest living son asked me to 
say to him, in behalf of his children, that they were proud 
of his life, and would not, if they could, have it changed ; 
that they accepted it as a precious legacy, and that they 
would cherish it forever above all price. He responded, 
'^ Could a man have a higher eulogy?" 

There was between him and his children a beautiful con- 
fidence and a most tender friendship. What a wealth of 
love he left them ! And certainly children never loved 
and honored a father more than they. His tenderness 
and respect for his wife was the tenderness and respect of 
a pure, manly soul, and she repaid him with unbounded 
affection. Xo wife ever leaned on the arm of a nobler 
husband. In this affliction her sorrow is the sorest; but 
while her loss is great, her consolation is infinite. A few 
more years, and she will meet him in the better land. 

I come now to speak of his death. I must not repeat 
here the words of counsel and farewell which he spoke to 
those of us who were with him in the last days, nor the 
beautiful messages of remembrance and love which he sent 
to friends and kindred far awav — these are sacred ; but I 



FUNERAL SERMON. 1 83 

must speak of his love of God, and tell you of his unshaken 
trust in the Redeemer, as he entered into the shadow of 
the great eclipse. A few days before he died, Brethren 
Milligan, Everest, Emmal, Dr. Smith and myself, at his 
request, united with him and his family in the celebration 
of the Lord's death. It was a tender and tearful scene, 
never to be forgotten while memory lasts. 

A short time before his death he said to me: *^The 
principles involved in the controversy I have waged I can 
never yield, but personal matters I desire to forgive. I 
wish to die at peace with all men.*' 

** He said to me a little while before he died : *' Look- 
ing back over my life, I find motives so mixed that I have 
nothing on which to build save my covenant with God in 
Christ.'' 

Subsequently he said: *'I find greater and greater peace 
in the constancy of Christ's love — in the consolations of 
hope." And again: **As the end draws near the scene 
brightens, and the Lord Jesus becomes more and more 
precious." Almost his last audible words were: *'My Sav- 
ior, my Savior, the Lord Jesus ! " 

Farewell, my gentle, faithful brother, the tried friend of 
many years, farewell, farewell ! It may be that while we 
say farewell, the friends of other days, the loved ones who 
left his earthly fireside before him, and Marshall Headly, 
and Major Williams, and Noah Spears, and Brethren Par- 
rish and Johnson and Stone and Campbell, move out to 
meet him at his coming, and hail him to the eternal shores. 
Again farewell ! 

** Yet in these ears, till hearing dies, 
One set, slow bell will seem to toll 
The passing of as sweet a soul 
As ever looked with human eyes." 

16 



1 84 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



CHAPTER XX. 

His personal appeaiance — An observer — His understanding — His success 
in life, how achieved — His memory — His imagination — His wit — His 
sympathy — His courage — His home-life — His power in the pulpit. 

THIS friendly, albeit awkward and inadequate, 
memoir of Dr. Pinkerton might properly have 
reached its ** finis" with the last chapter, which re- 
cords the closing scenes of his earthly life, and marks 
his entrance into eternity. A few additional reflec- 
tions and incidents, howev.er, may serve to give the 
reader a more nearly correct portraiture of the man — 
** of what he was in his essential nature." 

He was about six feet in height, slender but well 
built in frame, erect, and soldierly in carriage. His 
eyes were gray and full of expression ; his hair in 
early life was black, but for a number of years was 
well silvered ; his face was always handsome — in later 
life it wore in repose a rather grim as well as melan- 
choly appearance. 

Force, courage, thought, sympathy, pride, humor, 
indignation, all found expression in his countenance : 
all scoundrels and schemers saw written there " Be- 
ware ! " — all crushed and lowly hearts, *' Welcome and 
hope!" 

His perceptive faculties were well developed. He 
was by instinct an observer ; scarcely any thing es- 
caped his notice. He was a close observer of men — 
their modes of thought and speech ; and if much 



HIS UNDERSTANDING. 1 85 

with a man, he was likely to discover the hidden 
springs of his action. He knew the names and na- 
ture of all the trees and plants found in his neigh- 
borhood, the names and habits of all the birds and 
four-footed animals of the Kentucky fields, and even 
the little insects did not fail of his kindly notice. If 
he had chosen he might have written as entertaining 
a book as Whitens '* Natural History of Selbourne." 

He had a powerful understanding. I have seldom 
met a man whose comparisons, reasonings, and gen- 
eralizations were more clear, lucid, and thorough 
than Dr. Pinkerton's. His power as a logician was 
greatly reinforced by his innate love of truth — a cer- 
tain integrity of soul which refused to tolerate in 
himself those wretched self-deceptions by which men 
so often obscure the plainest truths and involve them- 
selves in shallow sophistries and palpably false con- 
clusions. 

His most serious intellectual defect was a want of 
practical judgment in affairs — of ability in adapting 
means to ends. He could have been a capital leader 
of a forlorn hope, but not a consummate strategist 
in war. He could never have made a good trader or 
merchant. He said of himself that he never bought 
and then sold a thing without loss. 

He could see very clearly the right end to be 
gained, but he could not so clearly see the probable 
difficulties and obstacles to be overcome in gaining 
this end ; and when he did see them face to face, he 
was apt to exaggerate them. Yet, paradoxical as it 
may appear, his mind was practical — that is, he was 
no mere theorist. He was continually struggling to 
make all his knowledge and convictions fruitful, and 



1 86 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

he was quite successful. But his success in the exe- 
cution of his work was achieved by persistent hand- 
to-hand struggle, and scarcel}^ if at all, by wxll laid 
plans and skillful diplomacy. 

He had a marvelous memory. All his reading 
was at ready command. He remembered not only 
thoughts, but words, and could with ease repeat page 
after page from favorite authors. 

He had a most fertile imagination and a beautiful 
fancy — the soul and utterance of a poet. His com- 
mand of language was remarkable. The most felic- 
itous expressions, as well as the most beautiful im- 
agery, seemed to come to him by inspiration. He 
was never at a loss for a word or an illustration, 
and the word was always appropriate, and the illus- 
tration apt and striking. 

His wit is indescribable. He could, when in the 
vein, set every body about him in an uproar of joyous 
laughter. The following passage from an article on 
Instrumental Music in the Churches is a fair speci- 
men of the wit and humor which he had always at 
command. A highly respected friend had written 
and published an article on Instrumental Music, in 
which he had contended that the advocates for the 
use of instrumental music in the churches might by 
their arguments prove that ''blind-man's buff" or a 
game of '' hot-cockles " could be introduced into the 
church. To this Dr. Pinkerton replied : 

'' Nor does it follow that we may introduce 'blind-man's 
buff or a game of hot-cockles into the church,' because we 
infer from the effects of instrumental music in the family, 
that it may prove beneficial in the ordinance of public 
worship. If blind-man's buff, or any thing akin to it, had 



HIS SYMPATHY. 1 8/ 

ever been a part of divine worship on earth or in heaven, 
then I should not object to the church exercises being 
•opened on Sunday mornings by the ' elders and deacons ' 
with an exhibition in the game of leap-frog down one of 
the aisles. But the church does not assemble for amuse- 
ment, but for social worship ; and if parents and children 
and servants, gathered around a family altar, may lawfully 
aid the voice with the melodeon while they raise a song 
of praise, we argue that God's family may lawfully do so 
when gathered in their place of prayer. 

^' It is not well to indulge in the saying of sharp things. 
Thus the esteemed scribe^^ to whose utterances allusion is 
made in this article, attributes the desire entertained by 
some for instrumental music in worship, 'to itching ears.' 
This is not kind. How would it appear should some one 
attribute opposition to the organ to the lack of ears alto- 
gether—or to very long ones?" 

It frequently occurred to me that his humor de- 
tracted from rather than added to his rea/ power. 
He was a master of satire and burlesque, and the 
appreciation of his argument was sometimes endan- 
gered by the keen enjoyment of his wit. 

His practical and ardent sympathy with the poor 
and wretched was a leading trait in his character. 
He was no sentimental theorist, loving even to tears 
all men, and profoundly indifferent to the sorrows of 
each man ; almost every week found him engaged in 
efforts to relieve some forlorn mortal whose path had 
crossed his own. Beside his own personal burdens 
he carried daily on his heart the sorrows and trials 
of some cohsumptive negro, some struggling widow, 
some forsaken child whom he had met and to whom 
he felt called to minister. The cry of distress was 
to him the call of God. 



1 88 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

A little incident told me by his brother Elisha, 
and which I insert here at his request, will serve for 
an illustration of his quick and helpful sympathy : 
He lived just outside the limits of the city of Lex- 
ington, and one cold winter morning, about a year 
before he died, he left home to walk into the city, 
when, near his gate on the public road, he found two 
poor small boys in great distress. They had started 
to the country with an old horse and a crazy wagon 
for a load of brush to keep up the winter-fire at home. 
The wagon had broken down, and, in sore amazement, 
they were shivering over the problem, when the Doc- 
tor came up and immediately took in the whole situ- 
ation. He spoke to them cheery words, sent one of 
them back to his house for hatchet and nails and 
ropes, and for an hour he worked in the winter wind 
to mend their old " trap ;" he then drove into his yard 
and loaded up with some right good brush timber 
which he had, brought the boys into the house to the 
fire, gave them something to eat, and sent them on 
their way rejoicing — bearing with them henceforth 
a new lesson in human love, and the memory of a 
darkened morning turned into sunshine by the pres- 
ence of as radiant and noble a man as princes or beg- 
gars ever meet. 

He had that chivalrous feeling which prompts a 
brave man to espouse the cause of the weak — the 
feeling which moved the apostle Paul when he ex- 
claimed, " Who is offended and I burn not?'' Early 
in his ministry, when he was quite a young man, as 
he was going down the Ohio River on a steamboat, 
he witnessed a fierce and angry controversy between 
a Northern abolitionist and a company of fiery South- 



HIS COURAGE. 1 89 

erners. The former stood all alone, and was hard 
pressed by his foes, when Dr. Pinkerton interposed 
in his behalf This heightened the ire of the South- 
ern party, and they turned violently on the daring- 
volunteer in the fight. They soon felt the keen 
thrust of a most sarcastic and fearless tongue, and 
sullenly the controversy was ended. The Doctor, 
subsequently hearing threats of violence against his 
new friend, went to his state room, advised with him 
as to the situation, and promised to stand by him to 
the bitter end. More moderate counsels, however, 
prevailed with the excited Southerners, and the abo- 
litionist, reached his destination in safety. 

Shortly after the close of the war, at a General Mis- 
sionary Meeting in Cincinnati, a number of South- 
ern brethern being present, some of them, especially 
those who had taken no active part in the rebellion, 
received a most hearty welcome. Prof J. D. Pick- 
ett, however, who had with great ardor espoused 
the Southern cause and followed the fortunes of the 
Southern flag throughout the conflict, seemed to the 
Doctor to be slighted, and he promptly moved that 
Brother Pickett be requested to address the conven- 
tion. He was actuated in this, as in the former in- 
stance, by no sympathy with the man in his pro- 
scribed opinions, but by the spirit of 

'*That courteous knight, 
Bound l^y his vow to labor for redress 
Of all who suffer wrong, and to enact 
By sword and lance the law of gentleness.'* 

He had great sympathy with women in all their 
peculiar trials and sorrows, and his conversations 
with them concerning God, and duty, and the cter- 



igO LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

nal rest, were strikingly touching and beautiful. To- 
wards all of them — high-bred ladies, and the strug- 
gling daughters of toil, and the ragged women of 
misfortune — his manners were most courteous and 
considerate. He was not a parlor knight, or even 
a man of courtly manners, but he was an honorable 
and modest Christian gentleman. No breath of scan- 
dal ever tarnished his fair, proud name. It would 
have been eminently unsafe for any man to have 
breathed against him in his hearing any foul story 
of dishonor. 

All children loved him. Hans Christian Andersen 
could hardly have been more attractive to the little 
folks. Boys and girls of a larger growth found him 
as interesting and sympathetic as did the wee tod- 
dlin' things. 

His judgments of men — especially of public men — 
were not always gentle. If fairly aroused in contro- 
versy, he did not make sufficient allowance for less 
ardent and more cautious natures. Having little cau- 
tion himself in the utterance of his opinions of men 
and measures, he was wont to attribute hesitancy of 
judgment and reserve in the expression of opinion 
to a lack of courage, or to a want of fidelity to con- 
science. He was not, however, a contentious man, 
but, as has been said of a distinguished Scotch 
preacher, he was "warlike." He had no taste for 
disputation. The quibblings, manoeuvers, shufflings, 
dust-raisings of debate were disgusting to him — and 
even dignified and rational discussion, in which he 
sometimes engaged, was not his chief delight ; but 
he was very quick and eager to make war on all 
meanness, cruelty, injustice, and falsehood — and war 



HIS HOME-LIFE. I9I 

with him did not mean patient and polite controversy, 
but absolute destruction of the thing he warred 
against. He struck instanter with a mailed hand, 
and was for treading out all opposition with iron 
boots. 

In his home-life Dr. Pinkerton was a most charm- 
ing man. His character and manners constrained 
the respect — I might say, even, the reverence — of 
his wife and children and domestics. While ever 
ready with the most open, and, generally, the most 
judicious rebuke of what he deemed wrong in the 
conduct and sentiments of his children, there was 
between him and them a freedom from unnatural 
restraint — an open confidence that filled his house 
with sunshine, and forbade any chilly cloud to set- 
tle about his hearthstone. 

An evening spent in his home was an event in 
the life of a stranger guest, and to old friends it was 
better than a king's feast. My fireside talks with 
him and his brother Elisha, in which we disputed, 
planned, laughed, wept — discussing with the greatest 
freedom all the questions of the life that now is and 
that which is to come— -were to me unfailing sources 
of the best culture, both of mind and heart. It was a 
rare privilege to have the rich accumulations of this 
good man's learning and wisdom opened to me day 
after day for ten years. By the winter fireside, in 
the long walk, on the fishing excursion, during the 
railroad journey, in the brief sojourn under some 
friendly roof — every-where he was full of thought 
and love — instructive, delightful, sincere — the finest 
talker — the rarest friend I ever knew. 

His approaches to God were wonderful. Leaning 
T7 



192 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

on Christ, he seemed to lead those who joined him 
in prayer and adoration to the very gate of Heaven. 
I was with him much of the time for ten years, and 
it seemed to me that he fulfilled almost to the letter 
the divine injunction, " Pray without ceasing/' 

In the pulpit his manners were grave and digni- 
fied, and his discourse natural and conversational. 
He was always instructive and searching, and fre- 
quently very eloquent. He preached often on Sun- 
day morning, in the last years of his life, to a little 
handful in an upper room in Lexington, and words 
more tender and thoughtful I have never heard from 
the pulpit. Again, I have known him to hold spell- 
bound by his eloquence great crowds of men — the 
refined and learned, as well as the rude and untu- 
tored. 

He was a daily student of the Bible, especially of 
the four Gospels. He was well read in all history, 
church and secular — in biography, m medicine, in 
travels, in metaphysics, in modern natural science, 
and in theology. He was a great lover of the poets 
— Shakespeare first, then Burns, Tennyson, Milton, 
Cowper, Pope, and Longfellow. He took great de- 
light in Charles Wesley's hymns, and in some of 
Whittier's poems, particularly the ode to Randolph 
of Roanoke. He never was much interested in Words- 
worth or Mrs. Browning. He kept up his reading to 
the close of his life. During the first weeks of his 
last illness he read the *' Confessions of Augustine." 

In classical learning, in severe mental training, and 
in that certain majesty and calmness of soul which 
give a man of genius rank anrong the great of earth, 
Mr. Campbell was superior to all the other preachers 



HIS POWER IN THE PULPIT. I93 

of the Reformation ; but in familiarity with general 
literature, in that kind of learning which fits a man 
to deal worthily with great social and religious ques- 
tions, in logical power, in moral courage, in fervid 
eloquence and manly Christian purpose. Dr. Pinker- 
ton was the peer even of Mr. Campbell himself. His 
chief excellence^ — that without which all else was lit- 
tle worth— was his profound piety, his abiding sense 
of God's presence and pity and love. Sustained by 
this faith, he met all the sorrows and reverses of life 
with an undaunted spirit : "though troubled on every 
side, he was not distressed ; though perplexed, he was 
not in despair." He had hidden sources of strength 
that the world knew not of, for he held a vital union 
with God. 

Read aright, his life is not without a blessed les- 
son for all that are earnestly struggling in the earth 
to reach the eternal goal in peace and honor. 



ADDRESSES. ^95 



ADDRESSES,* 



AN ADDRESS, delivered March lo, 1858: 

Is THE Civilization of Europe and the United 
States preferable to Barbarism ? 

Ladies and Gentlemen : 

I trust that you will regard my appearance before 
you to-night as the highest evidence I could well 
give of deep and lively interest in whatever can 
afford to the populations of our villages at once both 
entertainment and instruction. Unaccustomed as I 
am to the desk of the lyceum, I doubt not both the 
lecture and the manner of its delivery will need your 
indulgence. 

The train of thought in which we now indulge 
may, to some, be startling ; to others it will appear 
simply absurd or shocking. The lecturer, for pur- 
poses of highest utility, has advanced a small part 
only of what might be said on one side of the ques- 
tion, but he protests against any inferences that 
would make him the advocate of barbarism as op- 
posed to. a true and divine civilization. With this 
caveat, we proceed at once to the question : Is the 
civilization of Europe and of the United States pref- 
erable to barbarism ? 

••^Thc three following addresses have never before been pub- 
lished, and the manuseript copy left by Dr. Pinkerton he never 
even revised for publication. — Ei)i roR. 



196 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

In the year 1749, the Academy of Dijon proposed, 
as the subject of a prize essay, whether the progress 
of the arts and sciences had tended to corrupt or 
purify the manners of men ; and in the contest for 
the prize, John James Rousseau first attracted atten- 
tion as a fluent and powerful writer. Of Rousseau's 
essay we have only traditional knowledge, nor have 
we ever heard it commended except for the beauty 
and force of its diction. What Carlyle would call a 
running shriek of horror, has been kept up at the 
monstrous conceit that barbarism could be, in any 
of its phases, preferable to what has been called civ- 
ilization. The shriekers, we suspect, understood 
neither the essay nor what might be called its nat- 
ural history. A timid, sensitive, imaginative youth, 
fond of books, fond of freedom, his soul alive to the 
true, the beautiful, and the good, falls into the hands 
of a stern, religious bigot, from whom he receives, as 
a matter of course, only the harshest treatment. 
The lad lingers in the woods on Sunday evenings, 
enjoying, during his only season of leisure, com- 
munion with nature, worshiping the Infinite One, as 
he best might, in the great temple of immensity. 
From one of these rambles he returned to find 
the gates of old Geneva closed, himself without. 
The following morning brought the boy and the 
birch together. His soul rebelled — he could take 
neither to the five points nor to work, under the cir- 
cumstances. He finally takes to the mountains of 
Savoy, stops awhile at Turin, goes thence to Vevay, 
thence to Annecy, and wherever else fate or chance 
drifts him, finding every-where little else than big- 
otry, selfishness, deceit — falsehood in the family, in 



ADDRESSES. I97 

the State, in the church, and every variety of infidel- 
ity. Is it matter of wonder, that these experiences 
ripened by reflection into the philosophy of unbelief 
in the boasted advantages of civilization over bar- 
barism ? We think not. Nothing was more natural 
than that such a one as Rousseau, with life's bitterest 
experiences thick about his heart, should have con- 
trasted savagery and civilization to the disparage- 
ment of the latter. We regard the question dis- 
cussed at the instance of the Academy of Dijon as 
still an open question — a question on which many 
think, while few speak. We have dared to think, 
and we dare here and now to speak. We entertain 
the gravest suspicions that American and European 
civilization have not increased the sum of human 
happiness — that they are but partial developments 
of man — developments, for the most part, in the 
wrong direction — giving to their subject a distorted, 
mongrel appearance — half beast, half man. We sus- 
pect that the arts and sciences, as wedded and 
worked by these civilizations, have greatly lessened 
the aggregate of human bliss. 

Justice to such a theme can not be done in a has- 
tily written lecture. We are apt to take for granted 
what we wish to believe, and our self-complacency, 
our hereditary prejudices, our national pride, our 
pride of race, all conspire to shut out from us the 
truth touching the subject of the present discussion. 
In all inquiries, but especially in this, it becomes us 
to hold prejudices of every kind in abeyance, and 
calmly await the verdict of the facts that bear upon 
the subject. Let any nation be called upon to de- 
cide the question of precedence in greatness, glory, 



198 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

happiness, to whom, think you, will it be awarded ? 
Doubtless every nation will award it to itself. The 
civilized will carry it against the savage ; the savage, 
in turn, will decide it against the civilized. A Tar- 
tar chieftain, after dining on raw horse-flesh, causes 
his herald to announce to the kings of the earth that 
they are then permitted to go to dinner. In his es- 
timate, he is the first man on earth. Matter of use- 
ful thought may be found in the conduct of one of 
our own Indian chiefs, some of whose young men 
had been educated in one of our schools. The 
chief, on being asked to send on another class, re- 
plied : " I will send more of my young men to your 
school if you will send an equal number of your 
young men to me. I have noticed,'' continued the 
chief, " that our young men who have come from 
your schools are the worst in the tribe. They are 
lazy, will not hunt — they learn to get drunk, and are 
fit for nothing. Now if you will send some of your 
young to me, I will show you that the Indian's life 
is the besti" We stare at the Indian, and he, with 
equal good-breeding, stares at us. We are shocked 
at the Chinese — the Celestials, par excellence — for 
eating puppies and rats, and then we sit down to eat 
oysters and onions. 

We all remember the astonishment excited by the 
cool assumption of Guizot, some fi^fteen or twenty 
years past, that the highest civilization of Europe — 
of the world — was to be found in France — in gay, 
infidel, licentious Paris. Samuel Johnson — the he- 
roic old Samuel — seventy-five years ago, declared 
that religion was absolutely impossible to a French- 
man, and a majority of his countrymen echoed the 



ADDRESSES. 1 99 

sentiment. We presume Englishmen have not ma- 
terially modified their views of the French in the 
last seventy years. We see not why they should 
have done so. All her bloody baptisms have failed 
to cast out the seventy devils that, since the days of 
old, have raved and maddened in the heart of France. 
But if you listen to Englishmen, you will be re- 
quired to believe that the human family is divisible 
into two classes only — the English and the barba- 
rians. As was well said by a late writer in Harper s 
Magazine: ''The arts are all English, good man- 
ners are English, civilization is English, heaven is 
English, hell is English." You are all of you ac- 
quainted with our Fourth of July literature. It is 
certainly most delicious of its kind, and may be set 
against all the self-laudations of the world — Tartar, 
Chinese, Indian, English, or French. We repeat, 
then, that these several assumptions of self-superior- 
ity are mere assumptions, and entitled to no respect. 
What, then, are the two conditions of society and of 
the individual which we are now to contrast and 
compare } What ideas do we attach to the term civ- 
ilization 1 what to the term barbarism } Barbarism 
implies a condition of the individual and of society 
in which there are no artificial necessities, or but 
very few, and in which the energy of the individual 
and of the class is exercised only in supplying the 
few simple wants of nature, or in war. The social 
organization is simple. A chief or patriarch — some 
individual on account of age and experience, or in 
consideration of skill in the chase, or of prowess in 
war, is invested with the chief command — tl^c dicta- 
torship. 1 he unwritten laws which rcgulale the in- 



200 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

tercourse between the members of the clan or tribe 
are few, simple, and direct in their application. Civ- 
ilization is the exact reverse of this. Civilization 
means a state of society in which natural wants, in 
proportion to artificial, are as one to one thousand, 
and in which the energies of the individual and the 
resources of the state are employed in multiplying 
and meeting these artificial wants. The social ma- 
chinery of civilization is complex, and its working 
easily disturbed— its laws are intricate and indirect 
in their operation. The rulers of civilized states 
are, for the most part, hereditary princes or success- 
ful demagogues. The wars of barbarians are mere 
forays, involving no taxes, and having no considera- 
ble effect upon posterity. The wars of civilized 
nations bankrupt them, and entail enormous debts 
upon decades of generations. Wars, strictly barba- 
rian, have no Marathons, no Waterloos, no Sebasto- 
pols, nor do they leave, to rot above ground, crowded 
into hospitals, or scattered over the land, battalions 
of legless, armless, eyeless beggars, at once both a 
tax and a sorrow. 

It is not an easy matter to define barbarism or its 
opposite — civilization. They both have degrees, and 
comprehending phenomena so various, refuse to sub- 
mit to a rigidly scientific formula. We arrive at 
notions sufificiently fixed and definite by description, 
by contrast, and comparison. Taking our definition, 
then, as sufificiently accurate, we proceed to 'analyze 
more particularly that state of society w^hich we 
have all agreed to call civilized. Taking Great Britain 
and the United States as centers of the present 
highest civilization of the world, we shall have no 



ADDRESSES. 20I 

occasion, it is presumed, to allude to Italy, nor 
France, nor Spain, nor Russia, nor Turkey. 

Let no one fear that our lecture is likely to prove 
a song or a sermon, because we here enunciate cer- 
tain postulates which are to underlie, permeate, and 
control all our reasonings upon our present theme. 
The lecturer feels, that unless his auditors will look 
at the facts about to be submitted from the point of 
view he himself occupies, his utterances will prove to 
them wholly unintelligible. Standing, moreover, as 
he does, in the rnidst of a people whose civilization 
claims to be characteristically neither Grecian nor 
Roman, neither Mohammedan nor Brahminical, but 
Christian^ he is surely entitled to postulate the 
greatest truths of that system from which our social 
regime is said to derive its differentia. We premise, 
further, that our postulates are to be accepted in 
their ordinary, orthodox, ecclesiastical sense, and in 
no other ; for if they are not true in that sense, they 
are not true in any sense. 

1st, then, God exists — an infinite, ever-present, 
all-beholding, all-sustaining Spirit. 

2d. Man is essentially immortal. 

3d. Man is responsible to God for his conduct in 
this life. 

4th. Jesus of Nazareth was, and is, a teacher sent 
from God, and has embodied for us — has, so to 
speak, rendered concrete and palpable for us — the di- 
vine idea — God's idea of civilization. 

We may be indulged in the simple remark that 
responsibility is a term without meaning to an 
atheist ; and to talk of man's responsibility while 
denying his essential immortality is absurd. Re- 



202 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

sponsibility may be as fitly predicated of a beaver 
or a bat as of man, if all are alike mortal True 
civilization is, then, a human unfolding under the di- 
rect influence of these truths. Whatever is shaped 
and adjusted to these greatest truths is civilized; 
whatever not, is barbarous, heathen, godless, inhu- 
man, false. We repeat, for the sake of emphasis, 
that true civilization is a social development, having 
its springs, its proximate cause, in the great truths 
which we have just announced. 

It may avail somewhat to quote- here the words 
of the great philosopher, Guizot : " Human societies 
are born, live and die upon the earth ; there they 
accomplish their destinies. But they contain not 
the whole of man. After his engagements to soci- 
ety, there still remains in him the more noble part 
of his nature — those high faculties by which he ele- 
vates himself to God, to a future life, and to the 
unknown blessings of an invisible world. Man, en- 
dowed with immortality, has a higher destiny than 
states. When the history of civilization ends, when 
there is no more to be said of the present life, man 
invincibly demands if all is over, — if this be the end 
of all things. This, then, is the last problem and 
the grandest to which the history of civilization can 
lead us." These utterances can never cease to have 
the deepest significance for us and for all men ; and 
to them, in the way of authority, I shall add the 
words of one who must stand alone in time and in 
eternity — the words of one who fully apprehended 
and appreciated the significance of man's life on this 
earth : " Good Master," asked a young man once 
of Jesus, *'what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" 



ADDRESSES. 203 

" How readest thou ? " " Thou shalt love the Lord 
thy God with all thy heart, with all thy mind, with 
all thy strength ; and thou shalt love thy neighbor as 
thyself." '*Thou hast answered rightly," said the 
great Teacher. *' This do, and thou shalt live " [eter- 
nally]. Let these authorities suffice in support of 
our great propositions, to the test of which all facts 
are to be submitted in determining their relation to 
a true civilization. 

We have then to inquire whether British civiliza- 
tion or our own has evoked what is highest in man ; 
whether it is the outgrowth of those highest facul- 
ties by which he ascends to God, which bind him to 
the Infinite One and to his fellow with cords of 
joyous, life-giving, life-sustaining love. We inquire 
whether the varied social phenomena, which, in the 
aggregate, we call civilization, are fashioned and per- 
meated by the greatest truths predicable of our race. 
Alas ! does it not appear to you the merest mockery 
to propound such a question ? Contemplate these 
phenomena as you will, they have but one meaning ; 
interrogate them ever so earnestly, they give but one 
answer, viz. : Man's chief business in this world is to 
make money. This is the central idea in British 
and American civilization. The roar of commerce, 
the rattle of machinery is a ceaseless anthem of 
praise to Mammon ; and the highest gospel of our 
civilization is even this : Every tie that binds man 
to his fellow or to his God is well sundered for the 
sake of commercial success. Money, then, is the 
soul of these civilizations, but no immortal purpose. 
We shall not essay to keep on good terms with our- 
selves by ignoring facts that obtrude themselves upon 



204 I-IFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

as every day. A barbarian in broadcloth and in a 
palace is no better, but worse, than his brother in 
skins and in a wigwam. 

But we must hasten to specialties ; we must ad- 
duce particular facts in proof of our sweeping and 
severe allegations. We look at the navy of Britain, 
at her conquests, her legislation, her internal im- 
provements, her manufactures, her institutions of 
learning, and at our own — for in all essential particu- 
lars the daughter is like the mother. 

Are the mighty steam-ships and the three-decked 
men-of-war sent forth on missions of love and good 
will ? Do England and the United States sustain 
the enormous cost of their respective naval service, 
amounting to untold millions, in order that the poor 
may have bread, the ignorant instruction, the heathen 
the gospel of God ? Nothing of all this sends these 
winged messengers far over the seas. They exist for 
the protection of commerce, we are toid, and for the 
transportation of armies and munitions of war. Men 
can make money by exporting and importing — that 
is, some men ; for, in the end, the world is none the 
richer for all this going and coming to and from the 
ends of the earth. For trade, navies are necessary. 
Thus, if the Chinese refuse to trade in opium, a few 
British men-of-war can give them a lesson in civiliza- 
tion by sinking a dozen junk-loads of Celestials deep 
down into the green sea, bombarding a few cities, 
and blowing out what little brains the inhabitants 
happen to have, in a most civiHzed and scientific 
manner. Let it be remembered that navies are not 
designed as a protection against barbarians. Bar- 
barians have no navies. These immense engines be- 



ADDRESSES. 205 

long to civilization, and are one of her crowning 
glories. The policy which ordains them is a part 
of it. Thus, our glorious civilizations bankrupt the 
nations in providing means of defense against the 
aggressions of one another. England's rapacity has 
not abated since the conquest of India ; and if the 
late barbarities of the Sepoys shock us, let us remem- 
ber that Christian, civilized England once connived 
at, and now justifies, the outrages committed upon 
the ancestors of these very Sepoys by Clive and 
Hastings. On the score of cruelties, the British 
worshipers of Jesus and the Indian worshipers of 
Brahma are not more than equal ; but, in favor of 
the heathen, it must be remembered that the Chris- 
tian was the original aggressor. In atrocious inhu- 
manities the original conquest of India would not 
easily find a parallel in history ; while our own treat- 
ment of poor, imbecile Mexico can be justified on the 
ground only that might gives right. 

What lies at the base of the great schemes of in- 
ternal improvement .'* Per cents, you answer, and 
truly. No other idea enters into them. No thought 
of man's highest relations has any place in our mag- 
nificent schemes for developing the resources of 
countries. This need not be argued. Even educa- 
tion is valued at its price in the market. Mental 
culture is estimated as a marketable commodity. In 
our country general education is fostered, because it 
is believed to be essential to the success of our great 
governmental experiment. In Britain it is little 
heeded, because it is, perhaps, better for the govern- 
ment that the masses should remain ignorant. The 
motives of our civilizations are all sensual, miserly, 



206 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

and devilish ; there is nothing noble, high, God-like 
among them. 

We shall now listen to some who have spoken of 
English civilization — her own children, as well as 
foreigners — eye-witnesses, who speak what they know 
and testify what they have seen. From the mass of 
testimony lying before me I find it difficult to select. 
In a thousand ways '' murder will out." In spite 
of all apologies and all attempts at concealment, the 
true state of England begins to be seen. There are 
rents in her silken robe through which her skeleton 
limbs are visible. The curious traveler, committees 
of Parliament, philanthropists, poets, give us, as it 
were, unintentionally, the truth in regard to the 
more than savage wrongs by which the glorious 
civilization of England is sustained. 

'' The life of an English operative," says Dr. 
Southey, " is a perpetual scene of suffering and 
wrong. He enters upon his task-wcrk while he is 
yet a child. In his infancy he begins to fall under 
the curse which the state of society inflicts. He is 
deprived of all instruction and all enjoyment ; of 
fresh air by day and of natural sleep by night. He 
lives to grow up without decency, without comfort, 
and without hope ; without morals, without religion, 
and without shame. 

''The dwellings of the laboring manufacturers are 
in narrow, crowded streets and lanes, blocked up 
from light and air, because every inch of land is of 
so much value that room for light and air can not 
be aftbrded them. Here in 3^Ianchester," continues 
this humane Englishman, ''a great proportion of the 
poor lodge in cellars, damp and dark, where every 



ADDRESSES. 207 

kind of filth is suffered to accumulate, because no 
exertions of domestic care can ever render such 
homes decent." 

In the manufacture of the various fabrics with 
which England clothes the world, over two hundred 
thousand children are employed, many of them of 
very tender age. Civilization, it will be remembered, 
must dress in silk and fine linen, no matter at what 
cost of sweat, and blood, and souls. To dress in skins 
would be savage. Let us see, then, how these fine 
dresses come — fine worsted, we believe. Evidence 
of Stephen Bimes before a committee of Parliament : 
*' I have worked in Mr. Marshall's factory. The 
work produces deformity ; it lames the children. 
The work exacted from the children is all that can 
possibly be done. It can not be done without re- 
sorting to flogging. It is an offense for one to speak 
to another. The water used for hot spinning is 
heated to iio° or 120° Fahrenheit. The children 
have almost continually to plunge their hands and 
arms into that water. The heat of the rooms and 
of the steam almost macerate their bodies, and their 
clothes are steamed and wet. If they fall sick, they 
are turned adrift directly without wages, without 
provision. If a girl complains of ill-usage, she is 
discharged immediately without any redress. The 
present system is ruining the rising generation ; it is 
sacrificing the children to a paltry consideration." 
" A paltry consideration," Bimes calls it ; he is mis- 
taken. These children are offered up, body, soul, 
and spirit, by holocausts, to the god of civilization, 
more insatiate than Moloch. That England should 
undersell the world is a great consideration, surely. 
18 



208 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

But we hear another witness : " We began at five in 
the morning and worked till eight at night. The 
engine never stopped, except forty minutes at dinner. 
The children were kept awake by a blow or a box. 
I was strapped most severely till I could not sit 
down, and I was forced to lie upon my face in bed. 
Young women were beaten as well as young men." 
Not to shock you any further by these details, 
brought out by a parliamentary investigating com- 
mittee, we shall next hear Mrs. Trollope, who will 
not be suspected of exaggerating any of the evils of 
English civilization. You remember she thought us 
semi-barbarian, because, as she said, we eat our din- 
ner in five minutes, and then pick our teeth with 
fence-stakes. She was, however, a lady of superior 
talents. 

'' Whenever our boasted trade flows briskly," says 
Mrs. Trollope, *' the children are compelled to stand 
to their work just as many hours as the apphcation 
of the overseer's strap can keep them on their legs. 
Innumerable instances are on record of children fall- 
ing, from excess of weariness, on the machinery, and 
being called to consciousness by its lacerating their 
flesh. It continually happens that young creatures 
under fifteen years are kept from their beds all night. 
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen hours out of twenty-four 
are cases which recur continually, and I need not 
say with what effect upon these victims of ferocious 
avarice. Two hundred thousand little creatures," 
continues Mrs. Trollope, ^'created by the abounding 
mercy of God, with faculties for enjoyment so perfect 
that no poverty short of actual starvation can check 
their joy, so long as innocence and liberty are left 



ADDRESSES. 2O9 

them — two hundred thousand little creatures taken 
forever from all with which the Maker has surrounded 
them, and lodged amid stench and stunning, terrify- 
ing tumult, driven to and fro till their little limbs 
bend under them, hour after hour and day after day, 
the repose of a moment to be purchased only by 
yielding their tender bodies to the fist, the heel, or 
the strap of the overlooker." Picture this, think 
of it, you who laud our civilization ! Were not these 
little creatures better off among the savages of our 
West, or even of Africa ? 

But we must follow these poor little overworked 
children to their homes, and see how it fares with 
them there. One of our own countrymen shall con- 
duct us. "We turned a corner," says Lister, ''into 
a very narrow, filthy lane, and the boy, pointing the 
way down into the basement, said, 'There we live.' 
I took the little girl in my arms and carried her 
down stairs into the cellar. The mother was lying 
upon a low bed of rags in one corner of the apart- 
ment. The room was nearly dark. ' I am glad to 
see any one but my hungry children,* said the widow, 
sobbing. ' No one has before entered the cellar to- 
day, except the officer, and he took my last shilling 
for taxes.' The little girl climbed upon the bed and 
lay down ; the boy threw himself upon a chest, and 
in a few moments both were fast asleep. The mother 
rose, and supporting herself by the wall, brought a 
tin-cup of gruel (oatmeal and water), and seating 
herself on the bed, roused up her children to eat 
their simple meal. She had to shake them several 
times before they got up, and then she fed them with 
an iron spoon, giving to each a spoonful alternately. 



2IO LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

When the gruel was gone, * It is my turn to-night, 
Tony/ said the girl, * to have the cup.' The boy 
gave the cup to his sister, and then crawled over to 
the back of the bed to his night's repose. The girl 
licked the spoon, and then plunged her little hand 
into the cup, to gather the last particle of the gruel 
left." This is one case only of many thousands. 
But let the curtain drop. The tax-gatherer got the 
last shilling to help pay the expenses of some bediz- 
ened midshipman, and the sick widow and her tired, 
starving children go to sleep in a nest of rags, in a 
dark, damp, Manchester cellar, in civilized. Christian- 
ized, apostolic, merry old England. May the mute 
angels watch over them. Let no one say this is an 
isolated, exaggerated case. There are thousands of 
similar cases in Great Britain this very night ; but 
there are none such, thank God, even among the 
Camanche Indians. 

We pursue this civilization a step further. The 
overworked, overtaxed poor of Great Britain are 
barely able, during the period of growth and matu- 
rity, to support existence. When age comes onj or 
if overtaken by disease, the work-house is their only 
refuge. This, the civilized English reckon among 
the charities. Let us look into these *' charities.*' 
*' The work-houses," says an eye-witness, " are often 
the scenes of great cruelty, privation, and suffering. 
Instances are not few in which their inmates die in 
lonely, filthy chambers by night, without medical 
aid, without an attendant, without even a rush-light 
to flicker over their pillow while they are passing 
through death's struggles. The selfish avarice of 
the keeper combines with the interest of the parish 



ADDRESSES. 211 

to shorten the pauper's days, and rid themselves of 
the thankless burden as quickly as possible. To ac 
complish this, the cords of life are cut asunder by 
cold neglect or barbarous treatment. All that is 
known about such cases is, that the prayer of the 
dying pauper is often denied when he asks that the 
physician may be sent for, or some one watch by his 
bed, or the minister of religion be sent for to breathe 
out a prayer for his soul ; or if he is to be kept en- 
tirely alone while the soul is breaking away from its 
shattered house, that they would have mercy and 
bring a light, that the darkness of night may not 
mingle with the death-shades as they settle over his 
bed of rags. In the morning they go to his chamber 
and find him dead. It causes no grief; no friend 
was with him when he died. A rough coffin— price 
7s. and 6d — is ordered, the body is taken away, and 
that is the end of the pauper. Over his grave no 
tear is shed, no monument ever rises, and in a little 
while no one but Him whose all-seeing eye notices 
the falling sparrow, can tell where the pauper sleeps." 
But, then, England builds costly monuments to dead 
warriors, and gets- up costly pageants when princes 
royal marry ! Is not this enough ? 

But I will be told that this is not civilization at 
all, or, at most, only the dregs of it. Alas ! it is made 
up of dregs and froth. Where zs the civilization, 
then? Is it with princes and nobles, among the 
wealthy and fashionable ? Be it so, then. But remove 
the misery and degradation to which we have merely 
alluded, and what becomes of the pride and pomp 
of the lordling? Whence come these but from the 
tears and sweat of the poor and famishing.^ *' If a 



212 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

lord lieutenant of Ireland throws up his commission 
after a month's administration, and retires to a 
chateau on the continent with ;^25,ooo per annum, 
the sum is wrung from the starving peasantry of that 
misgoverned island." No doubt there is much re- 
finement in England. There are castles and man- 
sions, parks and gardens without number. There 
are battalions of fine ladies and fine gentlemen. 
Mrs. Stowe, of Uncle Tom's Cabin memory, can tell 
us much of all these in her '* Sunny Memories of 
Foreign Lands ;" but she forgets to tell us that the 
objects of her sunny memories were purchased by 
tears and miseries known in the aggregate to God 
alone. 

For many years after the battle of Waterloo, the 
grounds on which that mortal struggle between the 
most civilized, most christianized nations of the earth 
took place, bore the most luxuriant crops of grain and 
grasses. To an agriculturist the scene was mag- 
nificent. But on what were these crops fed ? On a 
horrid compost of blood, and brains, and bones of 
men borne down in the storm of war. Not unlike 
to this are the sunny spots in the civilization of 
England. These spots are watered by tears of or- 
phanage and of misery. The winds that blow over 
them have an odor of blood, and are laden with the 
sighs of the broken hearted. I would I had time to 
give you a picture of London, the greatest, richest, 
most civilized city in Christendom. We should see 
out of what kind of compost the flowers of West End 
grow. An allusion or two is all we dare attempt. 
Let us look into one of the sewing establishments 
from which the wealthy and highly civilized classes 



ADDRESSES. 21 3 

are supplied with clothing. London Times, March, 
1853 : " From six o'clock till eleven it is stitch, stitch. 
At eleven, a small piece of dry bread is served to 
each seamstress, but still she must stitch on. At 
one o'clock twenty minutes are allowed for dinner : 
a slice of meat and a potato with a glass of toast 
and water to each work-woman. Then again to 
work — stitch, stitch till five o'clock, when fifteen min- 
utes are allowed for tea. The needles are then set 
in motion till nine o'clock, when fifteen minutes are 
allowed for supper — a piece of dry bread and cheese 
and a glass of beer. From nine o'clock at night till 
one, two and three in the morning, stitch, stitch — the 
only break in this long period being a minute or 
two — just time enough to swallow a cup of strong 
tea, which is supplied lest the young people should 
feel sleepy. At three o'clock A. M. to bed ; at six 
o'clock out of it again to resume the labors of the 
preceding day. To sleep, they are cooped up in 
sleeping pens, ten in a room, which would, perhaps, 
be sufficient for the comfortable accommodation of 
two persons. The alternative is from the tread- 
mill to the black-hole of Calcutta. Not a word of 
remonstrance is allowed or possible. The seam- 
stress may leave the mill, no doubt, but what awaits 
her on the other side of the door.^ The work-house, 
starvation, or worse. Such scenes of misery," con- 
tinues the Times, ** exist at our own doors, in the most 
fashionable parts of luxurious London. It is in the 
dress-making and millinery establishments of the 
West End that the system is steadily pursued. The 
continuous labor is bestowed upon the gay garments 
in which the ladies of England love to adorn them- 



214 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTOX. 

selves. It is to satisfy their whims and caprices that 
their sisters undergo these days and nights of suffer- 
ing and toil." And now, we ask, and we ask gravely, 
were it not better, immeasurably better, that these 
poor girls should be among the Kickapoo savages, 
where they might be teaching young Indians how to 
shoot — where they might rest when weary, and, in 
general, eat when hungry ? At least : 

*' No fiends would there torment, 
Nor Christians thirst for gold." 

In this connection I have time and your patience 
but for one additional extract. London J/on/v/o' 
Herald oi March, 1853 : "It is difficult to realize the 
appalling truth, that in one small court of this great 
metropolis, one thousand human beings are at this 
moment existing. Multiplying this number by that 
of similar receptacles of human misery that surround 
us, and we may venture to set against all the degra- 
dation of human nature that prevails over ten thou- 
sand square miles of the most savage district on 
earth, the utter debasement of our fellow-creatures 
which is, at the very moment we write, contained 
within the limits of the great metropolis of great 
and Christian England. 

"Let men prate as they will about our progress," 
adds this stout-hearted Englishman, "we do not be- 
lieve that any generation but our own ever witnessed 
so hideous a congregation of squalid, abject, and 
hopeless destitution as is to be found in these loath- 
some receptacles to which our busy civilization drives 
its cast-off and rejected victims to rot." England 
was holier and happier when Caesar's legions first 



ADDRESSES. 215 

landed there, than it is to-night. Victims of a busy 
civilization ! Yes, and he might have added, athe- 
istic civilization. '*That state of society," said Dr. 
Channing, ** which leaves the mass of men to be 
crushed and famished by excessive toils on matter, 
is at war with God's designs, and turns into means of 
bondage what was meant to free and expand the soul." 

Let it be borne in mind that this excessive toil, 
these immense wrongs that shame the savage, are 
not borne and inflicted for a good end, but only for 
the love of gold and vain display. For every one 
that flutters in brocade, a hundred flaunt in rags ; 
that one may dine on six courses with champagne, 
a hundred live on gruel. We have machinery — per- 
fect machinery ; we have railroads, ships, cities ; we 
are civilized, but our temples of trade are reared on 
the crushed bones of millions of our race. "The 
steam-engine," says an eloquent Englishman, '* creates 
and creates like a beneficent god, but alas ! Mam- 
mon is master of the steam-engine. It gluts his in- 
satiate maw with wealth — yet still he cries out for 
more. To the sons of men he says continually, by your 
slavery I exist ; and, alas ! he has the power to en- 
slave. Inverting the wise law of nature, which or- 
dains that man shall Hve by the sweat of his brow, 
this mammon devil compels him to sweat and starve." 
But time fails me in the attempt to bring forward my 
witnesses, arid I shall dism.iss this branch of the 
subject by a brief quotation from Thomas Carlyle, 
and one from Alfred Tennyson. Listen to this bit- 
ing sarcasm of the sage of Chelsea : 

" The master of horses, when summer labor is done, 
has to feed his horses through the winter. If he 
19 



2l6 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

said to his horses, Quadrupeds, I have no longer 
work for you, but work exists abundantly over the 
world. Are you ignorant that the steam-engine, in 
the long run, always creates additional work? Rail- 
ways are forming in one quarter of the earth, canals 
in another— much cartage is wanted somewhere ; go, 
and may good go with you. They can find no cart- 
age, and gallop distracted along highways, all fenced 
in to the right and to the left. Finally, under pains 
of hunger they take to leaping fences- — eating for- 
eign property^ and we know the rest— the gibbet, 
the work-house, or transportation. Ah ! it is not a 
joyful mirth ; it is sadder than tears, the laugh hu- 
manity is forced to at Laisser-faire, applied to the 
poor peasants in a world like our Europe." Civil- 
ized man is less kind to his brother than to his 
horse, according to Carlyle's mode of seeing things. 
But then England has the apostolic succession ; 
Scotland is orthodox, and Ireland believes in the 
real presence. 

The present poet laureate, in his last work, 
makes the following fling at British civilization : 

•' Peace sitting under her olive, and slurring the days gone by, 
When the poor are hoveled and hustled together, each sex, like 

swine, 
When only the ledger lives, and when only not all men lie ; 
Peace in her vineyard — yes ! but a company forges the wine. 
And the vitriol madness flushes up in the rufiian's head, 
Till the filthy by-lane rings to the yell of the trampled wife; 
While chalk, and alum, and plaster are sold to the poor for bread, 
And the spirit of murder works in the very means of life* 
And Sleep must lie down armed, for the villainous center-bits 
Grind on the wakeful ear in the hush of the moonless nights, 
While another is cheating the sick of a few last gasps, as he sits 
To pestle a poisoned poison behind his crimson lights. 



ADDRESSES. 2 1 / 

When a Mammonite mother kills her babe for a burial-fee, 
And Timour-Mammon grins on a pile of children's bones — 
Is it peace or war? better war! loud war, by land and by sea, 
War with a thousand battles, and shaking a hundred thrones.'' 

Terrible testimony this to the advantages of civ- 
ilization. Even loud war, with a thousand battles, 
our poet thinks preferable to the peace of this civ- 
ilization, in which men live to cheat and be cheated, 
in which only the ledger lives and a few men who 
do not lie. Mammon, not Jesus, is lord of British 
civilization. 

There is one evil, which in its most frightful am- 
plitude, is pecuhar to civilization, but to which I may 
here, and now, only obscurely allude. In London 
alone, thirty years ago, there were ninety thousand 
magdalens. Whence came they ? whither go they ? 
A. mass of human beings, many of them 

Fashioned so tenderly, 
Young, and so fair, 

float past on the swell of life ; come forth from ob- 
scurity, and quickly drift into oblivion. For them 
there is no refuge but death. Our civilization tol- 
erates the destroyer, but consigns the victim to the 
street, the hospital, or, if she prefer it, to the dark- 
flowing river. '* The tender and melancholy Hood," 
the man who said he had spit more blood and made 
more puns than any man in England, has a sigh at 
least, even for them : 

Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian cliarity, 

Under the sun. 
Oh, it is pitiful, 
Near a whole city full, 

Home, they have none. 
I 



2l8 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

The end of poor Hood's unfortunate is the doom 
of many such : 

The bleak wind of March 

Made her tremble and shiver, 
But not the dark arch 

Or the black-flowing river. 
Mad from life's history, 
Glad to death's mystery 

Swift to be hurled 

Anywhere, anywhere 

Out of the world ! 
Perishing gloomily. 
Spurned by contumely, 
Cold inhumanity, 
Burning insanity, 
Into her rest. 

Pardon this brief allusion to an evil so immeasur- 
able, that if there were no other, it alone would 
render this earth a vale of tears. Remember that 
before our religion will allow us to attempt the 
recovery of this class of unfortunates, we must take 
counsel of our civilization ; we must first know 
what is genteel ; that we must go to the Pharisees 
for advice, not to Jesus. Let us at least thank God 
that from the worst features of this evil, barbarians 
are exempt. 

^ But, then, what of all this } Have we not our 
distilleries and dram-shops } We can, at least, beat 
savages in the article of good liquor. Let our 
drunken civilization lay its blood-stained hand upon 
its foul mouth, and groan out a thanksgiving that 
savages can not make whisky — that they know 
nothing of it, except as civilized men. For the love 
of gold, introduce it to them ! What a blessing is 



ADDRESSES. 219 

the proximity of civilization to the barbarous na- 
tions ! We greet them with salvos of riflery — send 
them messengers of peace in the form of bullets ; 
and upon those who do not thus find peace, we pro- 
ceed to practice our arts of rascality ; engraft upon 
them our worst diseases, and end by teaching them 
to get drunk. 

Some years ago, a curious traveler, having wan- 
dered far up one of the valleys through which a re- 
mote tributary of the Missouri quietly flows, came 
upon an Indian village, and stopped for a season. 
He directly discovered something unusual among 
these far west savages. They had discovered an 
aquatic plant, the inspissated juice of which produced 
extraordinary results when taken into the stomach. 
It rendered some for a time frantic ; others lay and 
slept in their wigwams during its operations ; others 
fell down and rolled upon the ground. Some yelled 
all night long, till the distant hills echoed, and the 
wolves answered. Some, it rendered quarrelsome, 
so that fights were frequent, and murders not sel- 
dom occurred through the agency of this pernicious 
extract. In many instances, our traveler was in- 
formed, the health of the young warriors was ruined 
by excessive use of the article, and old braves neg- 
lected to hunt, and starved their families. The 
traveler inquired of the chiefs why a stop was not 
put to the horrible practice, and was astonished be- 
yond measure to learn that certain Indians were 
specially appointed by the tribe to prepare and trade 
in the noxious stuff. These privileged Indians paid 
for their monopoly in buffalo skins. But you will 
say this is apocryphal, that there never was such 



220 LIFE OF L, L. PINKERTON. 

an Indian village ; that instead of describing what 
took place among savages in the far west, I am de- 
scribing what now exists substantially in almost 
every town in the State of Kentucky. Do you 
recognize the likeness ? 

From such civilization as England and our own 
may the good Lord deliver all savages ! A writer 
in the London Quarterly Review y two or three years 
ago, gave a most appalling account of the misery 
and crime caused by intemperance in the British 
Isles, and alluded to the policy of prohibition ; '* but," 
said he, coolly and calmly, ** the exchequer of Eng- 
land obtains seventy millions of dollars from the 
traffic in intoxicating drinks, and it would be impol- 
itic to dry up this source of revenue." That is the 
highest gospel of our civilization — keep the excheq- 
uer full, even if you must, at the same time, fill jails 
and penitentiaries, and felon's graves, and — hell ! 

This branch of the subject must be immediately 
abandoned. I have no time to speak particularly of 
American civilization. It is a legitimate descendant 
of the British. Of our fathers, we may truly say : 

Their clime, but not their minds, they changed 
By coming o'er the sea. 

New York is a fair small-hand copy of London ; and 
as our population increases, the spirit of our civiliza- 
tion will work in this New World what it has worked 
in England. It can not anywhere produce other 
results. The stream can not rise above the fountain. 
Grapes do not grow on thorns, nor figs on thistles. 

Take one example — one of female woe. It is 
county court day in one of our rich counties, and a 
great crowd is assembled about the public square. 



ADDRESSES. 221 

The shadow of the temple of justice lies upon the 
throng, and near by are sundry fanes, sacred to the 
worship of Him who came to set the captive free, to 
unbind heavy burdens, to proclaim the acceptable 
year of the Lord, to comfort the mourner, to bind up 
the broken hearts of earth, The crowd is promiscu- 
ous, the old and young, the rich and poor, saint and 
sinner, elders and deacons, are all mingled together. 
Toothless old men, somewhat drunk, and striplings, 
piping oaths and imprecations in soprano, are there. 
Our glorious civilization and our mottled religion 
are both of them represented-^if indeed they are 
at all divisible in the aggregate. Let us see, then, 
what this civilization did in that year of our Lord 
1856. "Here,'' cries a stentor, standing on high, 
"is a chance for bargains, I will sell, under a de- 
cree of court, this yellow woman and her five chil- 
dren to the highest bidder, without reserve." The 
mother, tall and graceful, her large black eye suffused 
in tears, looks sadly and anxiously---not imploringly, 
for hope is gone — into the crowd. Her color indi- 
cates that the blood is gathering about the heart. 
This mother is put up first. The bidding is brisk, 
and she is soon off at a handsome price. Then come 
the children — the oldest fifteen, the youngest a girl 
four years old. The mother watches as each new 
bid is cried, to see, if possible where her children 
are to go. Little Berry, six years old, runs ofi" into 
the throng, but is caught . and brought back to 
the block. His eyes swim in tears, but he utters 
no sound — his young heart is crushed. And now 
at last comes the turn of little Lucy, who clings 
to her mother's skirts, screaming wildly. It shall 



222 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

not avail thee, Lucy, nor yet that dumb, eloquent 
despair of thy poor mother^s countenance. What are 
lacerated, bleeding hearts and streaming eyes to these 
civilized gentlemen ? *Tis over ; the mother is gone, 
and her children are scattered to the four winds of 
heaven. Not one accompanies her to her new home. 
There remain two old, crippled, broken-down 
" niggers," man and wife. The old fellow leans on 
his cane, and tries to look his best, and his " old 
woman" in her best attire, not ungracefully stands 
up by his side. They have seen hard times, those 
old niggers ; and the white wool shows out from 
beneath the head gear. From all that is apparent, 
they were both better dead. They still stand on the 
block — the people laugh and jeer the auctioneer. 
No one will have them — nothing is bid, and the old 
black man limps away, his wife following. God help 
you, old people. Help for you in our civilization or 
religion there is none! Oh, Mammon, thou blind, 
heartless god, when shall this cease ? Ah ! does not 
Mammon hold it against Jesus in our civilization too ? 
Is not wealth more than immortality — the dollar 
more potent than the pleadings of inspiration ? 

It had been my purpose to look closely at our own 
society and by a thousand facts prove, that no people 
ever did, do now, or ever can, worship wealth with a 
blinder, heartier devotion than we do in this year of 
the Lord 1857. But perhaps this is as unnecessary 
as it is inexpedient. A note or two is all we shall here 
offer. ** The first and ruling consideration of every 
American," says a late writer \w Harper s Weekly, *' is 
business. Ninety-nine out of a hundred of all the 
people whom you pass on Broadway, are talking of 



ADDRESSES. 223 

dollars, percentages, and premiums. The same is 
true of the groups of men assembled in drawing- 
rooms, hotel parlors, and bar-rooms. [And the same is 
true,'! may add, of tlie squads assembled in the yards 
of our country clmrches, before the hour of service on 
Lord's day morning.] Wherever two or three Ameri- 
cans are gathered together, there you may be sure 
that business and dollars are on the tapis. There are 
a few boys whose prime aim in life is billiards, cigars, 
gloves, and drink, but they are an exception. The 
bulk of our people have no time to be vicious. They 
are too busy to sin." We pity barbarians, and yet 
need their pity. After all our bluster about our love 
of liberty and our enjoyment of it, we have less of it, 
and love it less, than our ancestors in the forests of 
Germany two thousand years ago ; at least, so said 
an eloquent writer in the Cincinnati Commercial of 
last Monday, this March 15, and I believe him. 

It may be said that I have taken no account of our 
religion. I strongly suspect that our civilization and 
our religion are not separable ; and as to Christianity 
proper, it has nothing to do with our civilization. 
There is not a well-informed, thoughtful man in Eu- 
rope or America who does not know and feel that 
our civilization and the religion of Jesus are direct 
antagonists. They are as opposite as light and dark- 
ness, as far apart as heaven and hell. 

If Juvenal correctly represents Roman civilization 
in his day, then we say that the condition of a black, 
naked savage of Nubia was not worse than that of a 
Roman citizen in the time of Nero, but better ; and 
if our travelers truly describe Rome — Christian, 
Modern Rome — where ** Christ's mighty shrine hangs 



224 LIFE OF L. L, PINKERTON. 

o'er his martyrs' tomb," then would it be an immeas- 
urable calamity to any number of savages from the 
sources of the Missouri to exchange their wilds for 
a residence in that '* lone mother of dead empires." 
Indeed, we much doubt if any twenty young Indians 
could come to Paris, Ky., and remain a year without 
being utterly debauched and ruined, and sent away 
tenfold more children of the devil than they came. 
The mitered, lordly Bishop of London thanks God 
that his ordination is apostolic, and sits down to a 
dinner of five courses, supplied by rates wrung from 
the starving poor, while within hearing of the bells 
of Saint Paul's, are two hundred thousand souls as 
ignorant of God and Christ as the dwellers among 
the jungles of interior Africa. It is true, the bishop 
and his clergy are successors of the apostles, and this 
is something ! The Kirk of Scotland takes care of 
the doctrines of grace, sends the gospel to the heathen, 
and prays for God's ancient covenant people, the Jews ; 
while around Glasgow alone, a few years ago, six hun- 
dred children wandered from house to house begging. 
And here in our own republic, cut up into vulgar 
fractions of churches, true religion is hardly known 
among us. 

*• Men and women are in our churches shammed, 
And waiting to see each other damned." 

From all I can see and hear, the conclusion forces 
itself upon my mind, that we should lose a large 
part of our religion—the most operative part — did 
we not mutually affect belief in each other's final dam- 
nation. We pay our lawyers thirty millions per an- 
num, our ministers six millions, and actually -spend 



ADDRESSES, 225 

ten millions on dogs. The six millions are furnished 
by a few who see visions of God. Alas ! for our religion. 
The less we say about it the better. Our civilization 
is a palpable thing—a greats tumultuous, never-ceas- 
ing worship of wrong, and lust, and mammon. Our 
religion is a sham, except in a few particular or in- 
dividual instances ; that is, if we mean by our religion 
the religion taught and practiced by Jesus of Naza- 
reth. *' Love your enemies ;'* "it is more blessed to 
give than to receive ;*' " having food and raiment, let 
us be therewith content ; " *' he that will be rich falls 
into a snare, and into hurtful and foolish lusts, which 
drown men in destruction and perdition.'* These and 
similar scriptures are as foreign to our religion as to 
our civilization, and the practical recognition of them 
would revolutionize the world. We are not civilized, 
or Jesus was a barbarian. We are not civilized, or 
Christianity is a fable. A painted sepulcher is a 
sepulcher still, gilded barbarism is barbarism still ; 
and who doubts that in the single city of Washing- 
ton—the great capital of the confederation, where 
the magnates of the republic gather — where our 
civilization culminates — in Washington City alone, 
this very night, there is more drunkenness, more 
lying, more swearing, more cheating, more adulcery, 
more hypocrisy, more of every thing hateful to God 
and dishonorable to man, than could be found 
among all the barbarians west of the Mississippi 
River ! 

If the position from which our rapid survey has 
been made, be a false position, then indeed is our 
civilization a huge impertinence — a splendid passage 
that leads to nothing- Regarded as its own final 



226 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

cause, it is a most miserable and melancholy failure. 
It has destroyed the equation between life and its 
cost — made much ado about nothing, and by increas- 
ing the sensibilities of which humanity is susceptible, 
it has, without any compensation, indefinitely in- 
creased the sorrows of life. If there be no blessed 
immortality for man, constituting in the divine idea 
the final cause of his existence, then is a life of three- 
score and ten, in the midst of our bustling civiliza- 
tion, an incalculable curse. Were it not every way 
better that a fox should be knocked on the head 
while still a mere cub, than that he should live and 
grow, only to be hunted, run down, and worried to 
death by dogs ? If his hide must go to the hatter's 
at last, the less of life he sees the better. And what 
is man really better than a fox, if Jesus of Nazareth 
be not the Messiah of God i^ — if man be not immortal ? 
No civilization, then, which plants itself upon a terres- 
trial level — be that level ever so high, is worth its 
cost. Any scheme of human improvement — of human 
happiness — must include the emotional nature, and 
base itself upon the moral and religious elements of 
our race. 

Our civilization, the civilizations of Europe, have 
triumphed over the forces of matter ; have subsidized 
all the agencies of nature ; but they have failed to in- 
crease the happiness of our race, because not based 
upon a divine idea of the earth and man. That which 
is first has been made last, and the last has been 
made first. The revolution by which civilization is 
to become a blessing and not a curse, I can now only 
indicate by placing the great motives of human activ- 
ities in their proper order. You will see that this 



ADDRESSES. 22/ 

order is the very reverse of the one in which they 
now stand : 

1. Jehovah. 

2. Eternity. 

3. The soul. 

4. The body. 

In other words, by making our civilization spring 
from the spirit of the religion of Jesus, the true state 
political will be achieved, the brotherhood of nations 
will be recognized, and the true destiny of the race 
secured. Under other circumstances, I would attempt 
to prove this position, but having already detained you 
too long, I must release your attention and leave the 
lecture to your tender mercy. 



12S LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



AN ADDRESS TO A THEOLOGICAL CLASS. 

"He shall be great in thf sight cf thi Lord'* 

In the present address, young gentlemen of the 
Theological class, it is my purpose to ofier to you 
some words of encouragement and of hope — inci- 
dentally only, if at all, words of instruction. 

From among all possible vocations esteemed hon- 
orable in civilized life, you have chosen the one least 
likely to lead to earthly renown — one which, if ear- 
nestly and truly prosecuted, will bring weariness of 
soul often, and watchings — cares the weightiest, and 
without number. This and much else of similar im- 
port, notwithstanding, I cordially approve your 
choice. It is the vocation I should choose for my 
own sons were I, in this, allowed to choose for them. 
In the language of the late pious and excellent John C. 
Young, President of Center College, Kentucky, I would 
say, that had I as many sons as there are hairs on my 
head, I should prefer to see them all advocates of 
the cause of Christ rather than to see them occupy- 
ing what are considered the high places of the earth. 
From the best and soberest reflections of which I am 
capable, and from an experience now somewhat pro- 
longed and varied, I ofter it as my firm conviction 
that to earth's best and greatest man, no higher, 
holier work could be assigned than to preach among 
the nations ** the glorious gospel of the blessed God." 



ADDRESSES. 229 

Other callings, doubtless, are necessary, and have 
their merits and rewards ; but as the soul is to the 
body, as heaven is to earth, as eternity is to time, so 
are the gospel and its labors and its results, to the 
enterprises which spring from our purely temporal 
alliances, and end in them. This view of the sub- 
ject may not be expected to become suddenly and 
generally prevalent ; and therefore the conviction 
just expressed, however deeply settled and ear- 
' nestly entertained, is not likely to be attended by any 
obtrusive self-esteem, On the contrary, in propor- 
tion as the work of the Christian ministry is exalted 
in the estimation of the minister, will his own humil- 
ity be secured. He is strongest when weakest — 
greatest when least, and never so near the summit 
of the everlasting Zion as when^ by faith, he goes 
with his sorrowing Redeemer to the gloomy Garden 
to weep and pray. In view of his great work — its 
cares and responsibilities, the true minister will often 
ask, " Who is sufficient for these things ? " and in the 
midst of the most brilliant successes he will say, 
** By the grace of God I am zu/iat I am ; *' for " neither 
is he that planteth any thing, nor he that watereth, 
but God who giveth the increase." We must not, 
then, be misunderstood in what has been said or in 
what may yet be said concerning the dignity and 
grandeur of the ministerial calling and work. 

" He shall be g-reat in the sight of the Lord," said 
the angel of God in relation to the Harbinger of the 
Messiah. True human greatness — greatness in the 
estimation of the Lord — is, then, our theme. What, 
gentlemen, is the desire of greatness ? I answer, it 
is ambition ; m itself, perhaps, the noblest impulse (^f 



230 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

humanity, and in its highest development leading on 
to the grandest issues. '' The desire of fame," it has 
been said, " is the last infirmity of noble minds." I 
can not agree with the immortal bard in this. No; 
ambition is not an infirmity, but a power, and per- 
haps the mainspring of almost all human active 
endeavor, noble and ignoble. Various, indeed, are 
the workings, and various the results of ambition. 
Thirst for notoriety, desire of fame, contemporary or 
posthumous, the simple wish to be remembered for a 
few fleeting years after we are dead, and the burning 
purpose to reach immortal honors in the everlasting 
kingdom of God are, we think, modifications only of 
the same element ot the human spirit. Let us not 
be surprised to find that the pot-house politician, 
struggling for village notoriety, and buying it at the 
cost of honor, and truth, and justice, and the Chris- 
tian hero who aspires to a crown of glory unfading, 
are severally obeying an impulse in essence the same. 
The endowments of an archangel, perverted, made a 
devil. A blind, misguided zeal for God lighted the 
fires of the inquisition. Ambition, properly inter- 
preted and directed — directed by Him who planted 
it in the soul of man — gives lis a Hampden, a Wash- 
ington, an Oberlin, a Howard, a Florence Nightin- 
gale, a Luther, a Wesley, a Campbell, a Paul, and 
tens of thousands of heroes and heroines unknown 
to fame, earth's true nobility. Misguided ambition 
furnishes the Swifts, the Sternes, the Byrons, the Na- 
poleons of the world, and the professional politicians, 
from which last may Heaven speedily rid the earth in 
any way that to Him may seem best. The benevo- 
lent, patriotic statesman we honor and revere. The 



ADDRESSES. 23 1 

man who, loves his country and his race, and who 
would obtain noble ends by noble means — the man 
who, by the unselfish advocacy of great principles of 
political progress, would command the applause of 
listening senates, scatter blessings over a smiling 
land, and read his history /// a nation s eyeSy is, in- 
deed, a gift from God, for which all men every-where 
should be thankful. But such a man is not a profes- 
sional politician. It is not through the agency of 
such that rebellions are raised and prosecuted ; not 
with the connivance of such that helpless prisoners 
of war are starved to death by the thousand ; not by 
such that a national police is opposed and thwarted 
while struggling to preserve a nation's life. 

Ambition, which I will venture to call the instinct 
of immortality, must not be expected to operate in 
absolute isolation. Like all other faculties, instincts, 
or sentiments, it acts in combination, and the char- 
acter of the combination determines the nature of 
the results. Allied with the benevolent and pious 
affections, it gives the Christian warrior, combined in 
operation with the selfish and malignant propensities, 
it would wade through slaughter to a throne, and 
shut the gates of mercy on mankind. Indeed, no 
element of our nature exhibits itself more variously 
or more impressively than the one we are now 
considering. The shepherd swain carves his initials 
on the bark of some tree, and hopes some passer-by 
will see them when he is gone, and give to him at 
least a thought. The hopeful school-girl's souvenir 
gift is a petition for remembrance when she shall be 
far away beyond that mighty tide, from the farther 
shore of which no one comes again. The monu- 
20 



232 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

mental marble, and the rude memorial that rise to- 
gether in the old chnrch-yard, alike implore the 
tribute of a sigh and protest against oblivion. 

** Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, 
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.'' 

" My enemies may deny the merit of my cam- 
paigns, and try to rob my reign of glory," said Na- 
poleon at St. Helena, '' but," added he, *' at least 
the code of laws that I have given to France will 
live." The observation was prompted, no doubt, by 
the wish and the hope that he would live with his 
code. 

There is nothing wrong in ambition, in itself, we 
have said, and the statement is repeated with em- 
phasis. The love of approbation is one of its 
phases ; and as no man ought to be indifferent to 
the estimate which his contemporaries shall form of 
his character, it would be strange indeed if he might 
be reckless concerning the verdict of posterity. In 
a word, what we aver is, that the desire to accomplish 
somewhat on account of which we may be worthily 
spoken of by our contemporaries, and remembered 
by those who shall live after us, but especially that 
the full unfolding of this great power of the human 
soul, ambition, which demands and seeks eternal 
honors and eternal life, is a divine endowment. And 
we say, further, that this, the spirit's ** noblest rage," 
demands as its complement honors and possessions 
more and greater than earth can give, and lasting as 
the years of God. It is the key-note of all the 
grandest harmonies of the soul, and, properly under- 
stood, it urges us towards the bosom of God as to 
our native home and our eternal rest. 



ADDRESSES. 233 

And this may serve to introduce our main inquiry, 
In what consists true human greatness ? Who is 
great in the sight of the Lord ? Had not divine in- 
spiration declared that one born of woman was tims 
great, we might not suppose such elevation possible 
to humanity. Great as was John, it was said by the 
unerring One, that the least in the kingdom of heaven 
is greater than he. What words of hope are these 
for us who now journey on through the night of 
time! — '* The least in the kingdom of heaven is 
greater than he." 

I might assume the absolute correctness of the 
divine estimate of human character, and the absolute 
falseness of every estimate differing from this. Per- 
haps I ought to do this ; nevertheless it is my pur- 
pose to lay these several estimates in the balances 
together. Widely different are they, as we shall now 
see. 

*' Blessed are the poor in spirit ; " "blessed are the 
meek ;" " blessed are the mourners ;" '' blessed are those 
who hunger and thirst after righteousness ;" ''blessed 
are the pure in heart.'' You, all of you, know who it 
was that spoke these wondrous words, till then un- 
spoken. How speaketh this world } Blessed are 
the rich and powerful ; blessed the successful candi- 
date for popular suffrage ; blessed the successful 
author or artist; blessed the conqueror returning 
from fields of carnage to receive a nation's applause. 
These are, briefly expressed, the broadly contrasted 
judgments now to be considered. If the latter be 
correct, then the humble, self-sacrificing Christian 
minister is simply a fool ; if the former judgment is 
to be accepted, then the godless scrambler after 



234 ^I^E O^ ^- L- PINKERTON. 

earth's riches and honors is a madman. Pardon, 
young gentlemen, this extreme plainness. It is 
time the issue were fairly joined between the chil- 
dren of this world and the children of light. If 
Jesus be indeed a teacher come from God; if he 
understood and practiced his own religion ; if his 
views of human duty and destiny are correct, then 
is his earnest service, no matter at what cost, the 
whole duty, happiness and glory of the human race ; 
and whatever is incompatible with that service, must 
be, in essence, false, delusive, insane. 

We accept, for the time, the world's estimate of 
human greatness, and guided by it proceed to evolve 
our destiny. Let us in passing, and for one moment, 
note a few specimens of the strange results of a mis- 
interpretation of our great nature. Thus, for in- 
stance, I once saw a paragraph in the papers setting 
forth that somewhere in this Republic a man had 
eaten twenty-seven hard-boiled eggs at a sitting, and 
that he had actually and unfortunately survived the 
exploit. He was, we may not doubt, quite a hero 
within a given circle, and enjoyed his triumph. But 
exultation over such a gastronomic feat, one would 
suppose, ought to be greatly abated by the reflection 
that a yearling shote would devour twice the num- 
ber of eggs at a meal, shells and all. It is not quite 
unknown, too, that men will sometimes boast of the 
amount of whisky or beer they can swallow without 
being compelled to take the gutter. There, it must 
be confessed, man stands alone. There is no brute, 
as in the case of the egg hero, to enter the lists 
with him in a bout of bumpers. To get drunk is 



ADDRESSES. 235 

man's exclusive privilege, and fully does he seem to 
appreciate it. 

Sometimes, even among preachers, ambition takes 
the direction of dress, and men bestow more time 
upon the toilet than upon their brains. This is sad 
enough. Again, we find men whose ambition it is 
to have the finest trotter, or otherwise the best 
horse, in his neighborhood, and much time and con- 
siderable sums of money are devoted to this end. 
The man, somehow, appropriates the honors of the 
horse to his own benefit, and speaks as if he him- 
self, and not the animal, had trotted twelve miles in 
forty minutes. 

But ambition not unfrequently takes the direction 
of courage — simple physical courage — and a young 
man, sometimes an old one, will take away the life of 
his associate, or throw away his own, and die as the 
fool dieth, merely to prove his ** pluck," to gain 
notoriety as a young gentleman of spirit ; and yet 
there is not an old clucking hen with one chicken in 
any farm-yard, from which the bravest lad might not 
take lessons in personal daring ; while a match of bull- 
terriers, or a pair of game chickens, will out-fight all 
the Heenans and Sayers that ever lived. What sad 
perversions do we here note of a noble endowment ! 
Jacob's ladder, which reached even into heaven, and 
made a pass-way for the angels, if let down would 
have taken hold on hell. Man's very crimes attest 
his dignity. A man may be a great eater, young 
gentleman, a great drinker, a great fighter, one or 
all together, and yet not be a great man, either in the 
sight of men or in the sight of the Lord. 

Fortunately and generally, human ambition takes 



236 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

a higher range than on the ways we have noted. Let 
us follow it in its highest flights this side the eternal 
abodes, and see if our true destiny is its goal. Shall 
we seek the gold of the millionaire, the laurels of the 
military chieftain, the lays of the poet, the orator's 
crown .-* In respect of these, and of all other prizes 
that time holds out to tempt the energies of mortals, 
let me remind you that not more than one of a thou- 
sand ever wins. How constantly and earnestly have 
men struggled for wealth ! What countless millions 
have sacrificed their peace of mind, all quiet of life, 
and their souls withal, on the altar of Mammon, and 
yet, after all this, how many Rothschilds, Astors, 
Stewarts, Girards, are named in the world's history? 
Many strive, and toil, and suffer ; one of a million 
wins. Is that one happy ? Generally the reverse. 
Does the millionaire find in his commercial successes 
the end of human ambition.^ Like one who would 
slake his burning thirst by drinking the briny water 
of the ocean, the worshiper of gold finds his appe- 
tite but increases by what it feeds on ; and not seldom 
does the most successful scrambler for wealth look 
back with regret to the days when he was poor and 
happy. 

Of all the objects of earthly ambition, military re- 
nown appears to be the most fascinating ; and after 
weary centuries of fightings, how m.any names of 
military heroes receive honorable mention from the 
generations now living ? Ten thousand men marched 
to the fields of Wagram, Austerlitz, and Waterloo in 
search of renown, who were never heard of afterw^ards. 
It has been said, indeed., that some hundreds of tons of 
bones were shipped from Waterloo, ground up, and 



-ADDRESSES. 237 

scattered over the fields of '' Merry old England/' As 
a fertilizer, some maintain that the pulverized bones 
of soldiers are preferable to plaster of Paris, or even 
to the ordinary compost of the farm -yard ; and Eng- 
land is a great economist. She brings home her re- 
duced regiments, literally gathering up the fragments 
that nothing may be lost. The Belgian farmers got 
the benefit of the blood and brains of the thousands 
that feir on her fields; England thought herself 
fairly entitled to their bones. Could the gay-plumed 
youths, who left their peaceful homes in search of the 
soldier's fame, have anticipated such results, they 
would have given their lives to useful pursuits, their 
bodies to the quiet church-yard, and perhaps their 
souls to God. 

Here, again, millions strive, one only gains the prize. 
The Alexanders, the Wellingtons, the Napoleons of 
the world are indeed few, and concerning most of 
these it is doubted whether they deserve the bene- 
dictions or the curses of mankind. Among them all, 
there has been but one Washington. Men, civilized 
men — for we are not speaking of savages, God-for- 
saken, and with their eyes on the dust — have been like 
dumb, driven cattle, fighting, bleeding, dying by mill- 
ions, that a few kings, princes, warriors, might escape 
oblivion for a centurj^ or two. The fairest countries 
of earth have been devastated, literally burnt over ; 
the grandest cities laid in ruins ; the bones of slaugh- 
tered millions have bleached on every hill-top and in 
every valley under heaven ; the peaceful rivers have 
run gory to the sea ; and huge monsters that wallow 
in slime far down in the abyss of ocean have gorged 



238 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

on the corpses of men swept down in the storm of 
war, and all this that some York or Lancaster might 
be considered great in the esteem of men, and be 
registered with the kings and captains of the earth. 
Most of the few whose names live in story or in song 
preferred infamy to oblivion ; and on their memories 
successive generations shall heap execrations, even 
till the coming of the Son of Man. 

It is not denied that a war may be just on the part 
of one of the parties to it ; but no war can be just on 
the part of both belligerents ; and if human ambition 
could be properly directed, the dreadful necessity for 
war could never arise. All wars are therefore charge- 
able either to downright savagery or to misguided 
ambition. But suppose the laurel won — suppose the 
aspirant for military fame succeeds — what then ? Is 
the reward satisfactory ? What is the universal tes- 
timony of the great potentates, warriors, conquerors.'^ 
" Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," said one 
of England's princes. Entangled in endless political 
and other complications, annoyed by a multitude of 
distractions, and weighed down by ceremonies of state, 
they find that they have given their money for that 
which is not bread, and spent their labor for that 
which satisfieth not. It may be doubted if Andrew 
Johnson is to-day as happy as when, an humble 
Christian, he made clothes for the peasantry of North 
Carolina; or whether the general of all the United 
States armies, General Grant, is now as comfortable 
as when he sold hides and leather in one of our west- 
ern towns. After fifty years of ceaseless effort, James 
Buchanan became President of the United States. 



ADDRESSES. 



239 



He dispensed the favors of the Republic to ravenous 
office-seekers for the immense period of four years, 
and on retiring left this testimony to the value of the 
prize for which he had licked the boots and spittle of 
blackguards for half a century : " Mr. Lincoln, if you 
are as happy in entering the presidential mansion as 
I am in quitting it, you are certainly among the hap- 
piest men in the Republic." The venerable Lewis 
Cass, it is said, expressed astonishment at Mr. 
Seward's acceptance of the office he himself was just 
quitting ; and Gov. Marcy had expressed himself in 
similar language to his immediate successor, this 
same Lewis Cass. Poor old men, alas ! they were like 
the little girl who thought it would be a splendid 
thing to be a countess. Our national capital, from 
year to year, is gorged with place-seekers. We can 
not suppose that this all but infinite degradation is to 
be attributed to the love of money. No ; these swarms 
of office-seekers that infest our political centers, like 
flesh-flies about shambles in August, think, doubtless, 
that they can render themselves famous — they would 
gain distinction. They are the victims of a misdi- 
rected but noble impulse. In chasing a delusion, 
they too often lose an infinite reality. Who now 
knows the names of the distinguished citizens that 
composed the cabinets of Fillmore and Pierce } I 
certainly do not, nor do I care to know. How many 
men and women in this world can tell who have been 
vice-presidents of this great Republic ? Already 
oblivion has swallowed a majority of them, and roars 
hungry for the remainder. We know not that the 
world is any the better for their having been in it ; 
and so far as I am concerned, the insatiate monster 
21 



240 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

is welcome to the whole of them. But could millions 
of men, and women too, instead of one only out of one 
thousand million, succeed in becoming famous, or 
even heroically infamous, during life, and dying leave 
their names to be blessed or cursed by posterity, what 
would it avail ? 

" Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 
Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death? " 

The marble column sculptured over with records 
of the great deeds of him in whose honor it was reared, 
keeps guard over a handful of black dust, or at most 
over a few bones, while the soul immortal is away on 
its infinite journeyings, heedless utterly of the praises 
or the curses of successive generations, as they too 
drift down the current of the centuries to inevitable 
oblivion. No fame is secure that does not center in 
God. Who built the Pyramids ? Where lie buried 
the heroes of Greece and of Rome ? The few places 
to which tradition points as their last bed contain 
no remnant of them. 

**Even the Scipio's tomb contains no ashes now, 
The sepulchers are tenantless of their heroic dwellers." 

Could we but calmly listen to the experiences of 
the few who have been successful in the race for 
earthly riches and renown, we would direct our hopes 
and aspirations to the heavens. This testimony is 
uniform from Solomon till now — " All is vanity and 
vexation of spirit.*' Shall the young man, nobly de- 
sirous of distinction, turn away from the toils of the 
gospel and seek honors that come from men alone ? 
Will he then become a greater lawyer, a greater polit- 
ical leader than Clay .^ a greater statesman and orator 



ADDRESSES. 24 1 

than Webster? a greater hero than Jackson? more 
illustrious in the cabinet and in the field than Napo- 
leon ? How many may reasonably hope to equal 
these, now known with others, as the mighty dead ? 
What is Clay's testimony to the question we here 
agitate ? Did he find fit respondents to his great 
ambition in the honors and rewards of diplomacy, 
the victories of the forum, the adulations of a conti- 
nent ? No ; he turned away from all these as lighter 
than vanity, and rejoiced in the humble hope of eter- 
nal life through the merits of the Savior of sinners. 
After all his successes and noble defeats, he looked 
to heaven for that rest and reward he had failed to 
find on earth. 'T was thus, too, with the great senator 
of Massachusetts. Long monarch of the American 
Senate ; the most lucid expounder of the Federal 
Constitution, night and death came to him in his 
retreat at Marshfield, and he yielded up his great 
soul, murmuring words of hope gathered from one 
of the prophet-bards of Israel. Jackson won the 
battle of New Orleans, and occupied for eight years 
the presidential chair. And what were such achieve- 
ments to the old hero when he went home to the 
Hermitage to die ? They flitted across his memory 
like cloud-shadows over the sea, and he spoke not of 
them, but of Calvary and the Cross, and of his hope 
of rest and blessedness in heaven. And what a lesson 
touching misguided ambition may we not learn from 
the career and death of Napoleon ! We shall look in 
vain through the records of all time for achievements 
more brilliant and illustrious, as this world judges, 
than are those which make up what is called the life 
of Napoleon ; we shall meet with but few events more 



242 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

tragical than his death. From Toulon to Waterloo, 
he was seldom unsuccessful in battle or in diplomacy, 
and the world gladly or reluctantly acknowledged his 
transcendent endowments. But at length Italian 
campaigns, and Marengo and Austerlitz and Wag- 
ram victories, and coronation anniversaries, are all 
past, as well as Leipsic and Waterloo defeats, and the 
great emperor is called upon to make dispositions 
for his last battle. The dauntless battalions of the 
Old Guard are not with him now, nor the terrible 
squadrons of Murat's cavalry. Nor does Napoleon 
need them there on that lone barren isle ; for the 
warrior bands of all Europe are not combined against 
him. A single horseman is all ; but the horse is pale, 
and the rider is death. The hero of Lodi and Areola, 
the hero of fifty great pitched battles, two only of 
which were lost, hides himself from this solitary foe^ — 
hides himself in the cleft Rock of Ages. Almost 
alone, and far away from the shores of that France 
he loved so well, and from the scenes of his un- 
matched exploits, let us hope that Napoleon won a 
victory — the only one that avails him any thing to- 
day — a victory won through the blood of the Lamb ! 
Why could not these successful chieftains and states- 
men and orators die content with what they had 
gained ? Because the way to a true human destiny 
is not pointed out by earthly ambition. One may 
be a great statesman ; he may be mighty. in oratory ; 
in genius a Byron ; in war a Napoleon ; and yet not 
be a great man. No ; with the talents of an angel, 
a man may be a fool. 

And now, may I be allowed to say, what I stead- 
fastly believe, namely : that men are truly great, in 



ADDRESSES. 243 

the sight of reason and in the sight of God, in pro- 
portion as they are like Jesus of Nazareth. Well am 
I aware that this declaration would sound wild enough 
in the ears of the courts and camps of earth, or per- 
haps even in the political circles of Washington, Paris, 
London. But the Bible is of God, and his estimate 
of human character is infallibly correct. But, alas ! 
that we should say it ; it is not alone in camps and 
cabinets that our declaration would lead to suspicion 
of the sanity of him who should soberly utter it. 
There is too much evidence that it would not be con- 
sidered orthodox even by the church. In proof of 
this, we adduce but a single fact. During nearly 
thirty years that I have watched and noted in a quiet 
way the developments of American Christianity, but 
two young men, only two, who had prospects of con- 
siderable earthly inheritance, have entered the Chris- 
tian ministry. Many thousands from every station 
in our American life, have entered the churches, 
while two young men of fortune have entered the 
ministry. One of these I may name — William Smith, 
of Henry County, Ky. Nobly distinguished, blessed 
be his memory, and peace to his soul ! I have long 
intended a pilgrimage to his grave. With near pros- 
pects of large wealth, and against the earnest protest 
of some of his nearest kindred, he entered the minis- 
try of the Baptist Church. He fell at his post in early 
manhood, bequeathing large sums of money to the 
church. The great edifice of his denomination in 
Louisville, Ky., stands a monument of his devotion 
to the Savior of the world. If Jesus is the Christ, 
then was young Smith a greater man than Napoleon — 
greater in the sight of the Lord. I think that nearly 



244 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

all the ministers in all the churches of the United 
States are from families that have had more faith 
than fortune ; and the fact is of widest, deepest sig« 
nificance. The actions of men and women, taken in 
the aggregate, are to be accepted as the exponents of 
their faith — their actions, we say — not their words 
only or chiefly ; and tried by this test, is not real faith 
in God and in the issues of this present life, as re- 
vealed in the Bible, weak and nigh unto death ? The 
wealthy fathers, yes, and the mothers too, even of the 
church, from all we can see, seldom or never direct 
the attention of their sons to the service of Christ 
and of men, in the sacred calling of the Christian 
ministry. No, no ; they may study law or medicine, 
battle for a place in a legislature, state or national, 
open a warehouse and establish trade — any thing 
rather than the preaching of the gospel. But I will 
not pursue this subject, lest I should judge harshly 
the Christian fathers and mothers of our land. I 
gladly leave a subject on which I have not reflected 
for many years without feelings of profound discour- 
agement. 

By our meditation, as thus far conducted, we have 
intended to maintain, or to suggest the following 
doctrines : 

1. The desire for distinction, for renown — ambition, 
in a word — has been divinely bestowed upon man ; 
that the fact of its existence and its power intimate 
eternity, and point out a hereafter to the human race. 

2. That its true interpretation must be sought in 
the word of God ; and when thus interpreted, its only 
complement is eternal life, and the honors that are to 
be revealed at the coming again of Jesus. 



ADDRESSES. 245 

3. That all attempts to fill out the demands of the 
human soul by earth's gifts and offerings, must, by 
the necessity of the case, end in disappointment, 
since man's ambition belongs to the eternities. 

4. That God's idea of a real man and of a true 
human life, is given to us in the person and life of 
Jesus ; and that whoever is most like Jesus, is greatest 
in the sight of the Lord. 

5. That the work of the Christian minister is the 
highest, noblest work to which any one can be 
called in this world. 

We would commend our views of the subject still 
further by the reflection that in seeking for glory 
and honor in the world to come, none need fail. 
The poor husband and his humble wife, and their 
lowly children, may altogether share in the glory of 
Christ in the day of his coming. Life's toils, its 
veriest drudgeries, become dignified when performed 
under the impulse of a holy ambition, to work out 
an illustrious destiny on the path of duty. 

But, however this may all be, my brethren in the 
ministry, for weal or woe, you have taken the cross. 
You are, in a glorious sense indeed, crusaders. The 
conquest of this world, its subjection to the King of 
kings, is the great enterprise before us, and by our 
enlistment we have become the companions of all 
who in the bygone ages have obtained the promises. 
It had been my intention to offer to you some sug- 
gestions with respect to the qualifications peculiarly — 
I will say indispensably — necessary to success in 
your sacred calling. The fulfillment of this purpose 
must, however, be postponed ; only a few words can 
now be spoken. 



246 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Faith and patience must ever be cardinal virtues 
in the minister of the gospel— faith in all that God 
has said, commanded, promised, threatened, without 
exception and without a doubt, and patience without 
limit with the weaknesses and follies of mankind. 
He must expect, for instance, to have his congrega- 
tion sometimes forget him and run yelping after po- 
litical demagogues and mountebanks. He must ex- 
pect to see professed Christian communities spend- 
ing more money per annum for jewelry, " for gewgaw 
toys and childish fooleries,'' than they spend for the 
world's conversion or their own. He must expect to 
see the stupidest men in his community grow rich 
and insolent at the same time, while he remains poor 
and grows poorer. He must be prepared to meet 
contradictions of men in every form, to bear the in- 
firmities of the weak, and in love to resist the strong. 
To go no farther, is it not apparent that any man's suf- 
ficiency for these things must be of God ? — that prep- 
aration for such duties and trials is of the heart 
rather than of the head .^ Let us repeat our form- 
ula : He is greatest who is most like the Man of 
Nazareth. This is the basis of our philosophy .of 
human life — the corner-stone of the structure we 
attempt to rear. Better to be an Oberlin than a 
Caesar. This philosophy, or if any one chooses, this 
faith, must be, to the minister, the mainspring of 
manly endeavor — the index to the highest glory. 
Let us together make one hurried foray across the 
border of the theoretical into the domain of the prac- 
tical, and see what kind of battling and what kind of 
fare may be in store for Immanuel's true Crusader. 

You leave your home, most likely, not overstocked 



ADDRESSES. ^47 

with even the necessaries of life. It is in early No- 
vember, and the winds are abroad. The day is cold, 
and dark, and dreary. The windows of the stage-coach 
are closed against the chilling gusts, and thoughtfully 
you sit, listening to the plashing of the horses' 
hoofs along the sloppy way, and the swashing of the 
wheels in the miry ruts as you roll wearily along to 
your destination. You watch the dead leaves as 
they drift past in the rain-laden winds, and think of 
what God has said concerning the strength and glory 
of man. The on-rushing winds are like the years, 
you think, and the leaves like the generations which 
these years bear away. You are saddened and sub- 
dued, and your thoughts float away to scenes beyond 
the tomb. You think of theyears of your own life 
that are gone, and of the dear friends that have gone 
with them. Your heart is flooded with a universal 
sympathy, and from its fullness you thank God that 
to you even, who are the least of all saints, it has 
been given to preach among the people the unsearch- 
able riches of Christ. In this mood, the appointed 
place is reached— a poor, scraggy, rusty-looking vil- 
lage, stuck on the side of a clayey hill, looking as if 
it had been made in the night-time, and slapped 
down at random. You come out of the coach and 
look about you. Over the way, you see a door-way 
crowded with dowdy children, and an unwashed fe- 
male face peering through a broken window. The 
appearance of things is not prepossessing. In the 
language of Irving, the very dogs show a conscious- 
ness of the meanness of the general circumstances, 
and, not venturing to bark, skulk about lean, and 
muddy, and chop-fallen. 



248 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

You had been written to to come on, and paid 
three cents for the privilege of responding, and yet 
no one seems to be expecting you. Making your 
way around some jaded horses, ahiiost as lean as the 
rack to which they stand, you enter a store to recon- 
noiter. Here the odor of the place interests you — a 
compound of cotton cloth, tea, tobacco, and whisky. 
Some men are about the store, drying off, with 
stringy hair, unwashed beards, and slouched hats. 
They stare at you stupidly, till you begin to question 
whether or not it would be real economy to save 
them if you could. After sundry other observations 
and experiences equally interesting, you are at last 
in humble quarters in the house of one of the breth- 
ren. Here you soon get on the scent of something 
worse than the odor of tobacco and whisky. You 
learn that the church is in a *' general muss.'* A 
couple of the brethren, your host tells you, fell out 
about some trifling matter of business ; the elders 
took opposite sides in the quarrel, and the result is 
that a good many brethren will not commune to- 
gether, while a good many of the sisters would even 
consent to say their prayers rather than speak to one 
another. Under these circumstances you begin your 
meeting, at night, in a cold house, badly lighted, and 
unswept. Some wealthy brethren from the neigh- 
borhood are present with their wives and daughters. 
These have pianos at home, and can play them, and 
sing " Hail Columbia,*' or "Dixie," and there are besides 
several good fiddlers belonging to the church, but the 
whole of them together can't sing '* Hail to the 
Lord's Anointed." But this foray must here end. 
Your meeting closes, and you set out for home with 



ADDRESSES. 249 

a few one-dollar bills in your pocket, and a few dimes 
and half-dimes, collected on Sunday, with an occa- 
sional stray quarter among them. I would that this 
were a mere fancy sketch. It is far otherwise, alas! 
To the speaker it is even terribly real. But you are 
at home again, and have leisure to think over the 
scenes through which you have just passed. An ac- 
count of your meeting, you think it likely, will not 
appear in the Cincinnati Gazette, nor even in one of 
your own papers, under that fascinating head — New 
from the Churches. In truth, you may not fancy 
such reports as the following : ** We have just closed 
a glorious meeting of seven days in this place. Sec- 
tarianism was made to tremble. Brother W. assisted 
me part of the time, and spoke with his usual power. 
The church was greatly refreshed, and we gained six 
noble accessions to the army of the Lord — one from 
the Baptists, one from the Methodists, and one from 
the world, and three reclaimed. I am obliged to the 

noble brethren of for their great liberality. To 

the Lord be all the praise." I know of nothing in uni- 
versal literature more execrable than a majority of 
these vulgar, godless bulletins, unless it be the ac- 
counts sometimes published of prize-fights, the style 
of which reeks with the slang of the ring. They 
used to remind me of Cummings' account of one of 
his hunts in South Africa. He generally posted up 
about thus: We this day bagged 17 buffaloes, 45 
spring-boks, 3 rhinoceros, 5 lions, and 2 elephants. 
This bill of particulars only lacked the pious ejacula- 
tion to make the parallel complete. Pardon me this 
digression. 

No account of your meeting, I have said, will find 



250 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

its way into the papers/ but you are consoled — it has 
found its way into God's book of remembrance, and 
there it will remain forever. And what was the re- 
sult of the meeting ? Well, what with preaching, 
praying, exhorting, beseeching, and begging, you in- 
duced the brethren to be reconciled to one another, 
and one poor lost soul was found and brought to God 
—and there was joy in heaven. It is true you do 
not feel quite sure that the difficulty will not break 
out again, for several of the sisters did not seem very 
cordial in the general greeting and farewell that took 
place at the close of your meeting. Still, you hope 
for the best, and fall asleep thinking of that most 
wonderful saying of the Savior-Christ, there is joy 
in heaven among the angels over one sinner that re- 
pents. You can at least rejoice that by God's great 
mercy you have been made the instrument of caus- 
ing joy in heaven. 

I much doubt, my brethren, whether Napoleon did 
any thing in his whole life that caused joy among the 
angels, unless, indeed, his repentance was sincere, 
and then the last act of his life was the only great 
one. He is the greatest man who is most like Jesus. 

You must learn, my brethren, to labor and to wait. 
To wait } Yes, both for rewards and honors, even 
till the day of the Lord. I have a friend who has 
waited for more than a quarter of a century for a li- 
brary, and still he is waiting; yet should it come now 
at last, it must be read in more than one sense by 
candle-light, for the day is far spent and the evening 
draws on. 

You will occasionally see an old minister, who has 
outlived his strength, no longer able to take his place 



ADDRESSES. 25 1 

at the altar, fall into neglect, and retire to a lowly 
home to die. Age, and want, and weariness are 
upon him, but the past is all peace and the future all 
hope, while he and his aged companion, forgetting 
the world, and by the world forgotten, float down the 
cold current of life, and have nothing left but the 
bed on which they die/ Let not scenes like this ap- 
pall you. That old man is rich, and will soon wear a 
crown of glory. 

I hint at a few of the trials that may await you, 
that even now you may gird up anew the loins of^ 
your minds, and take to you the whole armor of God. 
If the w^ay on which the true minister is to journey 
is in some respects lonely and desert, yet shall he 
find at times wells of water, and palm-trees, and 
manna. And this way, I here and now proclaim as 
the road to the highest glory and renown. Ambi- 
tion, unfolded and directed by this conviction, is an 
earnest of immortal fame, while all the paths of 
earthly glory lead but to the grave. 

The busy world, my brethren, will not concern 
itself much about you, but the angels of God will. 
You will, perhaps, never gain a record on the rolls 
of time, but your memorial will be safe with God 
forever. You may never take rank among the men 
of earthly fortune, but if faithful you will soon 
possess infinite and imperishable riches in the king- 
dom of the Father. Indeed, ''all things are now 
yours ; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or life 
or death, or things present, or things to come ; all 
are yours ; for you are Christ's ; and Christ is God's." 
You may never see the Alps nor the ocean, but you 
will see the mountains eternal that lift and swell 



252 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

away from the plains of the heavenly Canaan. Nor 
shall you fail to see the ocean of eternity. You 
will, perhaps, never see the classic rivers of Greece, 
or the more than classic Jordan, but you will see 
the river of the water of life, clear as crystal, 
that issues from beneath the throne of God and 
of the Lamb. For you on earth shall no triumphal 
arch be reared, no ovation proclaimed ; but you will 
enter through everlasting gates into the city of 
God amid the loud acclaims of countless thousands 
of angels, and with the glad welcome of myriads of 
redeemed spirits. Wearing the regalia of an immor- 
tal kingdom, you will be presented before the face of 
the Lord, who will bid you share in his own incor- 
ruptible, ever-enduring blessedness. Here lieth our 
true destiny. Go seek it, and may God be with you. 



ADDRESSES. 253 



TASTE. OR THE ESTHETIC SENSIBILITY. 



We do not propose to spend an hour in philo- 
sophic disquisition, to occupy ourselves with stern, 
logical analysis, or with any of .the severe processes 
of thought. We would not now erect a granite col- 
umn had we at hand the means of d jing it. We 
would rather aim to execute some d( ncate tracery 
on a column already reared. Or, to v iry our utter- 
ance, we would not aim to construct a macadamized 
road, but to scatter some flowers along a high and 
well-beaten way, could we, alas ! but find the flowers. 

Our theme is Taste, or the aesthetic sensibility — 
that is to say, the capability of the human race to 
perceive beauty and sublimity, and to be favorably 
influenced by their ministries — the supreme rela- 
tion that these sensibilities hold to moral and spirit- 
ual life, and the necessity of providing for them in 
a scheme of soul-culture when carried on in the 
academy or in the church. For the present, it is 
expedient to confine our thoughts to Beauty alone. 

The metaphysical and psychological phases of 
the subject must be passed with no more than a 
mere recognition of their existence. The proximf'.te 
cause of the pleasurable emotions, excited by beauty, 
has eluded hitherto the research of the metaphysi- 
cian. I would suggest that it is not a legitimate ob- 
ject of philosophic inquiry. We might as fitly and 



254 LIFE OF L. L. PIXKERTON. 

about as profitably inquire, how and why the mind 
perceives objects by means of their images painted 
on the retina. We can, indeed, determine the laws 
of light, and demonstrate the mere mechanism of 
vision, but beyond this science does not conduct us. 
The deep secrets — the divine mysteries of our lile 
and being — are, as I think, forever hidden from us. 
Of proximate causes we know nothing. Even within 
the domain of consciousness and intuition, we are 
shut up to the mere observation and registration of 
phenomena — their chronological order and their log- 
ical relations and dependencies. On this account, 
let us not love philosophy less, but revere our own 
wondrous being the more, and admire with deeper 
intensity universal nature, instinct with diversity, 
and full of the secrets of God. 

T\\^ final caicse of taste, however, w^e shall not fail 
to perceive, if we inquire with open-heartedness. 
The purposes of our varied endowments will be un- 
folded to him who honestly seeks after them. Why, 
then, has our beneficent Creator made us capable of 
deriving our chief and purest enjoyments from the 
contemplation of the beautiful and the sublime.^ 
We accept the existence of the 'sense of beauty, and 
the ascertained laws of its development and just cul- 
ture, as ultimate facts in human nature and experi- 
ence ; and it will be my object to point out to you, 
young ladies and gentlemen, the importance of this 
sense to the true education, and life, and growth of 
the soul. 

It concerns me to note, that the sense of beauty 
is among the very first susceptibilities of the young 
soul that are brought into exercise. Long before 



ADDRESSES. 255 

the capacity to reason is developed, or habits of 
reflection formed, the love of the beautiful, deep- 
seated in the soul of the infant man, makes itself 
unmistakably manifest. Of this, any one may con- 
vince himself, who will notice the methods adopted 
by the nurse — methods seemingly adopted from mere 
instinct — whether to please or to soothe her infant 
charge. Attractive objects for the infant eye, and 
simple melodies for the infant ear are family insti- 
tutions as old as Cain, and common both to civil- 
ized and savage life. None can well fail to notice 
in very young children, a fondness for gay attire — 
a fondness with which no ideas of utility are 
mingled. This desire of personal adornment is not 
limited to civilized and refined society. The In- 
dian maiden, with her shells, and beads, and 
brooches, and with the clear brook for mirror, man- 
ages her toilet with success. She decks her dark 
tresses with feathers from the brightest birds of her 
native forests, and the fierce young warriors bow at 
the shrine of beauty, tamed and gentle as doves. 

In the names of the lakes, the rivers, and the 
mountains of our great continent, the Indian re- 
corded his sense of the beautiful and the sublime. 
He listened, awe-stricken, to the roar of our great 
cataract, and in his expressive tongue, named it Ni- 
agara — the water thunder. He looked by night into 
the bosom of a quiet river, flowing along between 
ranges of the Blue Ridge, and called it Shenandoah — 
the daughter of the stars. The flashing of one of 
our smaller western rivers, sounded to his savage ear 
like the voices of mirth and gladness, and he named 
it Mine-ha-ha — the laughing waters. What testi- 

22 



256 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

monies are these to the power of the instinct of 
bea.uty. With the human race the love of the beau- 
tiful is first, is always, is every-where. 

I notice, further, that the aesthetic sensibility is 
ever seeking, especially in the earlier periods of life, 
to gain despotic sway over the entire soul. I can 
not, I think, be mistaken in regarding this as the 
great supreme law of taste. It demands that all 
things with which the human soul concerns itself, 
whether material or immaterial, whether animate or 
inanimate, shall conform to some ideal of beauty. 
It is only after protracted and most unnatural war- 
fare against this etherial element of our being, that 
it finally yields and leaves the soul a prey to selfish- 
ness and lust. No higher misfortune, save his utter 
abandonment by the Spirit of God, can befall a hu- 
man being in this present world. 

As important to my argument — for I intend that a 
gentle undercurrent of logic shall lun through our 
address — I notice that the perception and apprecia- 
tion of beauty, scarcely, if at all, involves the logical 
understanding. In communing with beauty and 'su- 
blimity, as in communing with God, we not only so 
reason but feel. Nor does the joy inspired by the 
beautiful spring from any consideration of utility in 
the object admired, nor yet from any interest we 
may have, or may suppose ourselves to have in it. 
It is not concerned with the yard-stick or the bal- 
ances ; it has no necessary relations with dollars and 
cents ; it is not obliged by interest tables or rates 
of discount ; it has no immediate connection with 
our mere animal life. We look on an opening rose- 
bud, and feel and say it is beautiful, without think- 



ADDRESSES. 257 

ing of its ultimate purpose in the economy of the 
plant, or of any good it can possibly minister to us. 

In this connection I note, lastly, that taste and the 
joys that spring from its exercise are not the herit- 
age of the rich alone. No, thank God! beauty and 
sublimity — the soul's needed food, unhedged, lie open 
in life's common field, and .bids all welcome to the vi- 
tal feast. And who has not gratefully admired, how 
from the very ashes and cinders of poverty, the di- 
vine sense of beauty will blaze up toward the im- 
mortal, and guide the humble soul along the borders 
of the land of Eden ? 

In these primary laws, then, of taste, lies a lesson 
of deepest and divinest significance for us all, and 
happy they who patiently, and at any cost, seek its 
full unfolding. 

If what has been said be true, we may expect its 
corroboration, by ascertaining what means have 
been provided for the gratification of a faculty com- 
mon to our race, and so despotic in its demands. 
And who, I will venture to ask, can conceive how 
the ministries to the pleasures of taste could have 
been multiplied or more varied ? We speak not of 
the imitative attempts of art, but affirm that through- 
out all departments of nature — mineral, vegetable, 
animal — the beautiful and the sublime abound. Is 
it not true, may I ask with emphasis, is it not true 
'that the means of aesthetic culture are immeasurably 
more abundant than are the means of animal sub- 
sistence } For the latter, we must toil, the former 
are in great profusion, and for the most part without 
money and without price. We have but to open 
our eyes and hearts, and the soul is filled with in- 



258. LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

spiring visions ; we need but to listen reverently, and 
nature's ten thousand voices, blending in glorious 
harmonies, wrap the spirit away into the realms of 
God. 

Nature is no stringent utilitarian. She does not 
dress in drab, nor go slip-shod. Look at her in all 
her varied moods. She is, what Byron designated 
the ocean, the mirror of the infinite One, glowing 
with beauty, and august in her subHmity. They 
greatly mistake God and their own souls, who sup- 
pose that all this, in one sense gratuitous display of 
heaven-born excellence, was designed to teach man 
to clothe himself in sackcloth. To repel the gentle 
wooings of beauty, is to despise the highest lesson 
nature has to teach us. 

I have said that the ministers to the pleasures of 
taste are not only abundant, but infinitely varied. 
I must pass this feature of the subject with little 
more than an allusion. No two families of birds sing 
alike — sweetly as they all sing. The foliage of the 
trees is all green, but the green of no two species 
is quite the same — the tinge is infinitely varied. Nor 
do any two classes of trees die alike. God varies the 
hues, even of death, when it descends in autumn on 
field and forest, thus rendering the decay of vege- 
table life scarcely less attractive than its renova- 
tion. 

The wind is a great musician, and the trees are 
the harps on which he plays. And have you not 
observed that he gives a different style of music 
from every species of tree, and varies his tones with 
the varying seasons.? Had I time, I would attempt 
to describe for you some of the waltzes, chants, an- 



ADDRESSES. 



259 



thems I have heard among the pines, the oaks, the 
aspens, and all the thousand harps that a beneficent 
Creator has set in the valleys, and placed on the 
hill-sides, and on the tops of the mountains. To 
these ^olian strains the pattering rain, the rippling 
brook, and the wide-rolling ocean add their notes, 
so that even inanimate nature swells the chorus of 
universal praise. I must not pursue the subject, but, 
in the eloquent words of another, would add a sug- 
gestion : 

" Had God meant this present earth as a mere 
lodging-place, a world less beautiful would have 
served the purpose. There was no need for the 
carpet of verdure or the ceiling of blue ; no need 
for the mountains, and cataracts^ and forests; no 
need for the rainbow; no need for the flowers. A 
big round island, half of it arable, and half of it pas- 
ture, with a clump of trees in one corner, and a 
magazine of fuel in another, might have held and fed 
ten millions of people, and a hundred such islands, 
all big and round, might have held and fed the pop- 
ulation of the globe. But man is something more 
than the animal that wants food and lodging. He 
has a spiritual nature, full of keen perceptions and 
deep sympathies. He has an eye for the sublime 
and beautiful, and his kind Creator has provided 
man's abode with affluent materials for these nobler 
tastes. He has built Mount Blanc, and molten the 
Jakes in which its shadow sleeps. He has intoned 
Niagara's thunder, and breathed the zephyr that 
sweeps its spray. He has shagged the steep with 
cedars, and spread the meadow with king-cup and 
daisies. He has made it a world of fragrance and 



266 LIFE OF L; L. PiNKiERTON. 

of music ; a world of brightness and symmetry ; a 
world where the awful and the lovely rejoice together. 
In fashioning the home of man, the Creator had an 
eye to something more than convenience, and built, 
not a barrack, but a palace ; not a work-house, but 
an alhambra ; something which should not only be 
very comfortable, but very fair ; something that 
should inspire its inhabitant with purest and loftiest 
purposes." 

And here, may it be allowed me to express re- 
gret, that in so many instances the divine capability 
of which we speak, is suffered in the opening ac- 
tivities of earnest life to be stifled by our concern for 
the useful. Rapidly do ideas of mere material good 
tend to push aside all thoughts of the beautiful for 
beauty's own sake, and this fair world, so glorious in 
its action and in itself, becomes only a great theater 
for commercial endeavor — a work-shop — a place 
where much money may be made. Alas ! this, and 
nothing more. Objects of divinest mold, and col- 
ored with the dyes of heaven, are valued only for 
what they will fetch in the markets. Under the op/- 
eration of this subordination of the eternal to the 
temporal, the immaterial to the material, this eleva- 
tion of the mere animal and the depression of the 
angelic, this perversion of human nature — a perver- 
sion so monstrous that language fails to describe it, 
even woman becomes a mere commodity. True, her 
beauty, whether of person or of spirit, may not be 
despised; but often these endowments are quite 
secondary to the question of her pecuniary condi- 
tion. I hear her spoken of almost daily by the high 
priests of Mammon, as an animal worth so much 



ADDRESSES. 26l 

money. Yes, woman, with her beautiful, mystic, un- 
fathomable eyes, and her wondrously molded form- 
in whose soul are hidden such magic and tenderness, 
whose love is stronger than death — even woman is 
not merely theorized upon as a useful minister to th6^ 
pleasures, but deliberately weighed against so many 
ounces of metal. If any thing were wanting to prove 
the necessity there is for a devil, this fact would fur- 
nish the needed evidence. 

It is painful to think how often this celestial seed, 
the love of beauty, is covered away from all warmth, 
and light in the mud of sensual, selfish desire. In 
vain to the devotees of lust and mammon does Na-^ 
ture*s ample volume lie ever open, each page illus- 
trated with the symbols of man's immortality, Ifi 
vain do flowers bloom in the garden or along the 
forest pathway- — in gorgeous grandeur under tropic 
skies, or in minute beauty on the skirts of the 
glacier amid Alpine solitudes — -flowers so beautiful 
that no one can speak worthily for them, in prose or 
rhyme — so beautiful that I think the angels come 
do\vn in the quiet night-time to look at them. In 
vain do bright birds come in the season of spring to 
adorn and enliven our bowers, or to sing for us in the 
groves. In vain do field and forest unfold their varied 
charms ; in vain does the placid lake reflect by day 
the multiform clouds that float along in the crystal 
air; in vain does it mirror by night the stars that 
from far away in the infinite distances look down 
into its bosom. All these beauties of God, and mill- 
ions besides, reach not the soul of him who, having 
been ordained to love the beautiful and the good, has 



262 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

laid these in the dust, and worships only his grosser 
appetites. 

We see in nature only what we bring to it the 
means of seeing; and if the love of beauty, after 
struggling with the sensual and selfish, is at length 
compelled to yield, the soul becomes thenceforth 
the home of false, if not of foul, ideas. We see only 
distortions and caricatures, and have power to be 
pleased only by what is false. Nature will be 
avenged for the insults we offer to her by leaving us in 
ever-increasing darkness. It is sad to think how 
many there are this very day who have reached this 
first stage in the career of spiritual death — who hav- 
ing eyes see not, and having ears hear not — to whom 
this glorious earth is first a market-place and then a 
grave-yard. 

Traveling some years ago, I was for a time un- 
coached at a little straggling village on one of our 
chief highways, while some changes were being 
effected in our traveling equipments. A considera- 
ble box, having a glass door, was lifted from the 
coach-top. The frame of the box was ornamented 
with an execrable imitation of leaves formed out of 
leather. A hasty glance at the contents of this cas- 
ket disclosed a cucumber or two of the deepest 
green, some bunches of exceedingly blue grapes, a 
very red peach, and, in short, a general assortment 
of fruits and leaves, all done in wax and colored on 
the intensive principle, and all redolent of the odors 
of turpentine and varnish. The box was soon the 
wonder of the villagers. Naturally enough, the chil- 
dren were there, and old men came out from the bar- 
room, and with spectacles on red noses, and hands 



ADDRESSES. 263 

on knees, stooped over to see the sight. A black- 
smith, with sooty face and brawny arms, bared to the 
shoulders, crossed the street to get a look. Women 
came with children in their arms, and an old grand- 
dame leaning on her staff. Finally the corps de 
reserve^ in the person of an old, fleshy cook, fresh 
and fragrant from the kitchen, came forward to see 
the waxen wonder. And yet at that very moment a 
stately cherry-tree was sending down showers of 
snowy petals on the heads of the stupid gazers ; 
not a bowshot away the dogwood had spread out 
its white banner on the hillside ; a thrush trilled 
his merriest notes from the top of a neighboring 
tree, and universal nature rejoiced in the warm sun- 
shine and balmy air of an April morning. To all 
these living embodiments of beauty, the souls of the 
crowd were dead— they could stare only at wax, and 
verdigris, and vermilion, and varnish, and lacker. 
Thus will nature avenge herself if we go from her 
and heed not her wondrous revelations. The very 
light that is in us she will turn to darkness. 

Returning from this digression, I hasten to note 
some of the advantages of that aesthetic culture 
which I so ardently wish to recommend with suc- 
cess. 

I. The exercise of the faculty of the spirit which 
converses with beauty and sublimity, is a source of 
the purest and most refined enjoyment. It is more 
delightful than to taste the grapes of Eschol, or to 
inhale the fragrance from the gardens of Engedi ; 
and what especially commends to us this noblest cul- 
ture is, that every-where are found in richest profu- 
sion the means of aesthetic enjoyment. They are, 



264 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

like their author, omnipresent. At home or abroad, 
on land or on water, on the mountain top or in the 
valley, on the heath or in the woodland, straying by 
the great water-courses or following the windings of 
the little rill, in the sunlight or beneath the stars in 
the solemn night — in all seasons and in all places 
does our beneficent Creator unvail to us the glory 
and grandeur of his works — every-where and always 
are harmonies playing, to which seraphim listen. 
When Lieutenant Morton and his Esquimaux boy, 
in the expedition of the lamented Dr. Kane, stood 
upon the extreme northern point of land that juts 
out into the Arctic Ocean, in latitude 82^ 22", 
where no man had been before since the making of 
the world, they saw water-fowl in countless thousands 
careering in sportive flights above the rocking 
waters, and heard the weird music of the waves that 
broke upon the rocks far below ; and even there tiny 
flowers grew, and turned their snowy bosoms to an 
Arctic sun ! Oh, this earth is all over circumfused 
and glowing with living beauty ; and where beauty is 
one may be happy, for God is there. 

2. The development and proper culture of the 
sense of the beautiful and the sublime, postpones 
for us the autumn of life, and even binds the brows 
of winter with garlands of spring. In the cultivated 
soul the affections remain young, and the benign 
emotions active, even amid the decay of strength 
and the failings of the fountains of life. 

** A thing of beauty is a ]oy forever ; 
Its loveliness increases ; it never will 
Pass into nothingness, but still will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams." 



ADDRESSES. 265 

The aged and way-worn pilgrim, who has achieved 
for himself a true human unfolding, still sees visions 
of beauty, still hears melodies he heard in youth 
from harps not touched by mortal fingers. Around 
his bed of death is the aroma of flowers, and the 
parting soul sings anthems of triumph in the dim 
portals of the tomb. 

3. The enlargement and proper training of the 
sense of beauty involves the cultivation of all the 
benign, and pure, and lofty affections of the soul. 
This I regard as a fact of highest and mightiest im- 
port. Contemplating education as an end, or as 
merely the means of the highest earthly joy, we can 
not fail to see the place which, by divine appoint- 
ment, aesthetic culture is to hold in a rational scheme 
of emotional training. I can not easily exaggerate 
the importance of this feature of our subject, regard- 
ing as I do the sense of beauty as an index to our 
highest earthly destiny — its development as a test 
of a just education — its triumph in all the amplitude 
of its claims as an earnest of a blissful immortality. 
May I claim a moment's indulgence while I attempt 
a statement of the case ? 

Among the benign emotions there exists the 
closest affinity. The cultivation of one of them can 
not be carried forward without securing, to some 
extent, the development of all. The cultivation of 
the sense of beauty, especially, I think, involves the 
growth of all the pure, refined, and lofty powers and 
capacities of the human soul. Outward forms sug- 
gest the inward reality — beauty in the object de- 
mands beauty in the subject, and constantly tends 
to produce it. Whoever will spend a meditative 



266 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

hour in a flower garden, shall come away a better 
and a wiser man. Whoever will, for one calm hour 
even from his chamber window, listen to the strange, 
wild melodies of grove, and woodland, and lawn, as 
rising and mingling they swell away to heaven in 
glad anthems, shall find his soul dilate with rever- 
ence for the great infinite Father of all, and with 
sentiments of universal good will to man. Such 
communings with nature, when sincere, fill the soul 
with inexpressible yearnings after the purity and 
love of heaven. 

To produce harmony between the soul and nature 
— a correspondence of the emotions with all beauti- 
ful forms and all melodious sounds, is the end to be 
proposed by aesthetic culture. I would state this 
point even a second time. The entire absence of 
any perception of material utility in beauty forces 
the conviction that the adornments of our terrestrial 
abode were designed by ministering to pure, unsel- 
fish happiness, to elevate and sublimate the whole 
moral and spiritual nature of man. A beautiful 
earth and sky preach to us by day and by night this 
great gospel : Blessed are the pure in spirit. We 
insist that the exercise of the sense of the beautiful 
constantly tends to bring all the benign affections 
into the ascendant, and teaches that men ought to 
live on earth essentially as they are to live, if they 
live at all, in heaven. And this is the last, as it is 
the highest lesson nature has to teach us. The en- 
tire subordination of the whole emotional nature to a 
sense of real beauty — the correspondence of the 
moral and spiritual character with the glories and 
harmonies of this our home and its surroundings, 



ADDRESSES. 26/ 

this is the result of a true human development. To 
make this attainment is to gain the top of Pisgah, 
whence is clearly visible the land of Canaan. When 
we become alive to the wondrous beauty and 
grandeur by which we are surrounded, we feel that 
we, too, ought to be beautiful, and are urgently in- 
vited and wooed to become so — to become one with 
nature. When this unity is secured, we have be- 
come conscious of the divine depths and infinite 
value of our own souls. We have given to us the 
key of nature's majestic Apocalypse, and can inter- 
pret her mystic symbols and read the messages of 
love she writes for us on earth and sky. The culture 
on which I here insist, if carried forward to its 
proper issues, gives to the soul its nearest earthly 
approach to an open vision of God. Let me speak 
with sufficient caution, and note that the attainment 
of harmony — of entire oneness between the moral 
and spiritual susceptibilities of the soul, and the 
wondrous beauties of nature — beauties of form, of 
color, of melody — -although the end of aesthetic cul- 
ture, becomes a means at length by which a still 
divine but higher end is reached. As the beauty of 
the rainbow, the gorgeous pencilings of Aurora — 
the gilded cloud curtains that adorn the chambers of 
the west as the sun passes behind them to his glori- 
ous rest ; as these unspeakable splendors and mill- 
ions more have nothing whatever to do with our 
physical well-being, so neither has the love of tJieni, 
What, then, is the meaning of our rapturous gazing 
upon the wonderful works of God ? The beauties 
and sublimities of nature have no voice for us if 
they speak not to our hearts of fairer worlds on 



268 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

high. In the language of an eloquent author, then, 
I would say, there can be no true rest for man as a 
mere lover of the beautiful. The aesthetic region is 
an enchanted ground, but it is not the holy land ; 
and yet the connection between the two is like that 
between the bridegroom and the bride. The true 
lover of the beautiful has reached the delectable 
mountains, but not to rest there— he must pass on 
and over into Immanuel's land. If he loves the 
beautiful, he must also love the Infinite One, who is 
the fountain of all loveliness, or shock and torture and 
distort and destroy his own soul. We must come to 
dwell in the kingdom of heaven. Then life becomes 
a divine endowment, and the growth of the soul its 
aim. Nature's voice then becomes gentle as the 
voice of a bride, and the enfranchised spirit is filled 
with all the fullness of God. Nature and revelation 
are one. The same love divine that radiates from 
the cross — 

** Warms also in the sun, refreshes in the l3reeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees." 

Even now while I address you in this joyous sum- 
mer-time, the tenderness and love of the infinite 
Father, as displayed in renovated nature, invite us to 
purity of heart, and to his bosom as to our final rest 
and everlasting home. 

And here let us observe the difference between 
methods of God and man*s methods in this great 
work of soul-culture. God offers to our contempla- 
tion insects whose colors vie with those of the rain- 
bow ; he gives us verdure and bloom, waving woods 
and rushing rivers, and wide-rolling seas; purling 



ADDRESSES. 269 

brooks and gorgeous clouds ; and stars that never 
set even. He presents to us all glorious sights that 
reveal his love, and power, and divine majesty, while 
Jesus our kinsman Redeemer " shows us the Father,*' 
and interprets for us our own mystical nature. In 
kindest accents he invites the sinner — the weary and 
heavy laden, to come to him and find rest. In a few 
plain precepts that appeal to the intuitional con- 
sciousness he teaches, and by his divine example he 
moves, us to love our infinite Father and to love one 
another. And what does the church ? She forgets, 
it would seem, that God made his wonderful works to 
be remembered — that the heavens declare his glory 
and that the firmament shows his handiwork. She 
forgets the lesson the blessed Jesus drew from the 
lily of the valley and the fowls of the air. She 
seems to think that to exalt nature is to disparage 
revelation. The church puts into our hands a cate- 
chism-— a shadow of a skeleton, alas ! For living, 
concrete realities, she gives us abstract, scientific 
formulas, and says to us. Eat these and digest them, 
and live and grow. She would have us feel humble 
because we were made of dust, although the roses 
and lilies and violets manage to grow out of it, and 
as though God might have used some better material 
— as though, indeed, it were possible for any living- 
being to care what he is made of, or to conceive out 
of what else God could have made him. What 
infinite quackery in this ! These theological formu- 
las, these dry bones of systems, what food are they 
for the young immortal ! They reward not the most 
patient and resolute picking with even a shred of 
gristle — one gets only a mouthful of dry, grittj 



2/0 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

phosphate of lime. And can it be cause of wonder 
that by means of this folly, that may be considered 
infinite, religion, instead of uniting men in holy and 
happy brotherhood, has shivered society into vulgar 
fractions — into parties fiercely antagonistic ; parties 
whose piety finds scope in their mutually and sever- 
ally Avishing each other damned ? Religion, as at 
present ordered, is in direct opposition to a true aes- 
thetic culture, and renders it nearly impossible. 

From this digression I hasten to conclude what I 
may now say by offering some suggestions as to the 
means of a true and successful soul-culture. And 
let me remark with emphasis, that beauty is not ob- 
trusive. Nothing seems easier, especially after a 
few years of thoughtless neglect of the glories of 
God as displayed in creation, than to overlook them. 
It is, notwithstanding, amazing to see what myriads 
manage to live but a little above the beasts, who 
were designed to live but a little lower than the 
angels. It is appalling to know that millions live, 
even in Bible lands, to whose dwarfed spirits the 
heavens declare not the glory of God, to whose pal- 
sied souls the firmament shows not his handiwork. 

If, then, we would have our spirits elevated and 
chastened by the beauties of God, we must accustom 
ourselves to look after them — to find pleasure and 
companionship in them. We must have a free and 
candid spirit — a soul prepared and ready to acknowl- 
edge its own imperfections, its own want of perfect 
beauty. I would insist on this as an essential con- 
dition of spiritual development. We must rid our- 
selves of all pretense and shallow affectations and 
hypocrisies, and in child-like simplicity ask instruc- 



ADDRESSES. 



>7I 



tions of nature, our kind mother. Thus, and thus 
only, will she be approached with success. To the 
false-hearted pretender nature is always unkind, 
threatening, terrifying ; but by open-hearted com- 
munings with her we come to have confidence in the 
divinity of our own souls, though their beauty may for 
the present be marred, their glory blurred and de- 
laced. But every man who aspires to the noblest 
destiny must have confidence in the essential 
grandeur of his own spirit. Nature will, then, like a 
gentle mother, fold him to her bosom, and tell him 
that though fallen he is not lost ; though deformed, 
he may yet become beautiful even like herself. 

I have intimated that you must, at times, arouse 
yourselves to observe. Hold trysts with nature. 
Let your meetings with her be like the meetings of 
affianced lovers, secret and sacred. Look out when 
the morning breaks, and the curtain of night is 
slowly lifting. You will hear the first notes of a 
bird waltz, and see the sun as he lifts above the hori- 
zon, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race. You 
will see the dew-drops that night distilled converted 
into brighter gems than ever sparkled in the coronet 
of kings. Claim at times a season of meditation 
when evening folds her drooping wings, and let your 
soul be won to reverence and love by the subdued 
glories of the dying day. What an hour is that 
which immediately succeeds the setting of the sun 
on a calm summer evening ! The shadows gradually 
deepen in the woodlands and gather in the valleys ; 
the hum of business dies away ; the birds close their 
vesper hymn ; one by one the brighter stars appear, 
and slowly and gently the night, cool and dewy, 



272 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

comes down with a holy stillness upon the world. 
It is hard to conceive how heaven itself can be more 
augustly beautiful. Be wedded to the stilly night, 
and *'when coarser souls are wrapt in sleep," some- 
times, at least, listen to the voices that will whisper 
to your soul of the days that are gone, and of those 
that are to come. Not specters, but angels, will come 
to you with messages of love. As you listen to the 
night-winds that murmur among the trees of the 
garden, or break in hoarser moaning through the 
swaying trees of the distant forest, you will be re- 
minded of the infinite and omniscient Spirit whose 
presence is your safety and your life, and your en- 
franchised soul will ascend to claim its part in the 
rejoicings of suns and circling worlds that chant 
their battle anthems in the deeps of heaven. 

I must be allowed to say, in this connection, that 
to plant flowers is a sacred duty. By heaven*s ap- 
pointment they are cheaper than food and raiment. 
Whether one is destined to live in a palace or in a 
cot, he should train the honeysuckle to climb over 
his window, and let roses stand sentinels at the door- 
way. In the years that are to come they shall prove 
pleasant remembrances of by-gone hours, and of 
loved ones that shall have gone with them. Their 
annual changes will remind you of your own hour 
of fading, and suggest, too, the promised day of ren- 
ovation, when it shall be morning in the tomb, and 
the sleepers shall awake. 

" The lily is still lovely as when it slept 
On the waters of Eden's lake : 
The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept 
In Eden, from brake to brake. 



ADDRESSES. 2/3 

They were left as a proof of the loveliness 
Of Adam and Eve's first home; 
They are here as a type of the joys that bless 
The just in the world to come." 

Plant them, then, as a divine privilege, and plant 
trees and shrubs about your home, and entice birds 
to come and build in them, that all through the 
spring and summer months they may remind you of 
the goodness of the infinite Father, and win you to 
his love ; and in their autumnal farewells tell you 
that you, too, have a long journey to take into the 
infinite unknown. 

I have omitted till now any allusion to literature 
as a product or a means of aesthetic culture,. but you 
are all aware that we have the beautiful also in liter- 
ature — we have Belles-Lettres. Would that I could, 
in the close of this address, speak some fit words for 
the beautiful in letters. From a field of verdure and 
bloom so vast, I can at the present offer to your 
contemplation but a single flower— a flower of many 
petals, of varied hues, and exhaling the fragrance of 
primeval Eden — the flower of poesy. 

All high thoughts and pure purposes, it has been 
said, refuse to be expressed in other than tuneful 
language. The true poet, whether his power be only 
equal to the production of the amatory sonnet, or 
commensurate with the highest, widest reaches of 
epic and dramatic grandeur, is but the imitator or 
the interpreter of nature. He endeavors to tell 
to others in measured numbers what he has seen and 
felt of the beautiful and the sublime ; what he has 
learned concerning the inner life of things — of the 
human soul, its joys, its sorrows, its yearnings — its 



274 ^^^^ ^^ ^- ^- PINKERTON. 

foreshadowed destiny. It were about as easy to 
write poetry as fitly to describe it. I have, there- 
fore, no call to this work, nor do I propose to 
attempt it. I would only urge upon all young people 
every-where the importance of an early and intimate 
acquaintance with this department of literature as a 
means of spiritual culture and a source of the high- 
est and purest pleasure. Men and women should 
learn to think more of their libraries than of their 
.larders and wardrobes. The life is more than meat, 
the body is more than raiment, the soul is more than 
all of them. Supply your homes with elegant books, 
therefore, and fill your heads and hearts with their 
contents. Write poetry, too, if you can ; it does not 
follow that you must print it. But if you can not 
sing, thank Heaven that you can become a good 
listener to the songs of others, and with all dili- 
gence strive to become one. 

I have* said that between all the benign emotions 
there exists the closest affinity, and that among them 
there is a reciprocal interaction. And so it is with 
all beautiful and sublime things — they will all dwell 
together in the same apartment of the soul, and their 
images will mutually suggest one another. It is thus 
that a passage in the Concert Polka will suggest the 
awakening of the birds on the first May morning that 
broke on Paradise ; the little violet, or the song of the 
redbreast, will set you to humming the immortal 
elegy of the pensive, melancholy Gray ; the sight of 
a beautiful but fallen sister, will recall the inimitable 
verses of the tender and suffering Hood — the Bridge 
of Sighs. 

The sight of a young girl fading away while it is 



ADDRESSES. 275 

yet morning with her, will call to your mind Tenny- 
son's May Queen, a poem I would rather have written 
than to have compiled the Comprehensive Commen- 
tary. Let one read the rc4th Psalm, and the open- 
ing of the Third Book of Paradise Lost, and light 
shall be to him thenceforth a holy thing ; even the 
garment of Jehovah, and blindness shall be sacred, 
even as the sorrows of Milton. He who would aim 
at complete spiritual enfranchisement, can not be too 
familiar with the bards of Israel, nor too conversant 
with the utterances of Jesus. His sentences are 
poems, his life a tragedy in which men and angels 
and devils, and even God himself, appear on the stage. 
Eternity is the back-ground, while the shifting scenes 
expose the destinies of the human race, and reveal 
the abysses of hades. 

In illustration of the power of tuneful utterance 
over the human spirit, I transcribe an anecdote of 
the renowned and lamented Wolfe, who fell in the 
assault on Quebec, in September, 1759. ** A little 
after midnight," says the biographer of Gray, "the 
boats, freighted with an army, floated quietly down 
the St. Lawrence. In the darkness, the outlines of 
the hostile fortress of Quebec and the castle of St. 
Louis alone were visible. Safety depended on silence 
and secrecy. For the gallant Wolfe and his army, it 
was the hour of destiny, and the fate of an empire 
hung upon the enterprise, and no sound was heard, 
save the rippling of the river. It was at such a 
moment and in such a situation that in hushed tones, 
just audible to his officers in the boat, the voice of 
Wolfe murmured over the stanzas with which a 
country church-yard had inspired Gray ; and as the 



276 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

last line died away on the soldier's lips — lips which, 
in a few hours, were to close over life's last utterance 
in the placid content of a victor's death — he added, 
' Now, gentlemen, I would rather be the author of that 
poem than to take Quebec/" I am less ambitious 
than Wolfe, for I would rather be able to merely listen 
with appreciation while Gray sings, than, without such 
ability, to win fifty Austerlitz battles. 

To any who would dare to ask me what all this 
sentiment is worth — how much it would bring by the 
cubic foot, I would answer: rats, to your holes.; 
away, ye bestials, to your swine-herding, and, when 
you feel like it, feed, and wallow with your charge. 
I have no utterance more tuneful than this for these 
blasphemers of Nature and the souls of men. 

I am not ignorant of the fact that the culture of 
taste in the soul's highest relations, involves the 
possibility, perhaps I should say the certainty, of 
pain, of shocks, that, without such culture, would 
never be felt. 

**Too dearly bought the priceless treasure, 
Finer feelings can bestow, 
Cords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, 
Thrill the deepest notes of woe." 

It may be doubted, however, whether Burns, 
though he thus sung, would have exchanged 
those keen sensibilities out of which came the 
stanzas to the mouse and to the mountain daisy, 
for the richest inheritance in all Scotland, although 
these same sensibilities filled his life with sorrows. 
There is a sorrow that is not painful, there is a 
melancholy that is not misery. Jesus wept, but he 
was not unhappy. The tears we shed for the faults 



ADDRESSES. 2*jy 

and woes of others, or our own, fall not unseen of 
Him who hears the cry of the callow raven. The 
sun of mercy gilds them as they fall, and a bow of 
promise spans the cloud that, for a time, may over- 
cast our sky. And this, too, is a token of the cove- 
nant. But I must leave the doctrine of the lecture 
without defense. 

Having purified our souls by communings with 
the beautiful in nature and art, in society and in 
religion ; and having obtained pardon of Heaven, 
through the reign of infinite love, battling and con- 
quering still, let us march on to the grave with 
cheerful music, and with triumphant song. We will 
not, we can not, if we rightly learn our great lesson, 
forget the supreme aim of all true aesthetic culture; 
namely, the adornment of the soul in the '' beauty of 
holiness^ This is the end of human life, and of all 
its ministers, celestial and terrestrial, natural and 
supernatural. This beauty of holiness is the wedding 
garment which shall secure admittance to the mar- 
riage supper of the Lamb, and a home in that beauti- 
ful country, that far away country, where flowers are 
ever blooming, where our own youth and beayty will 
be immortal, and where there is no night forever on 
the land or on the sea. 



2/8 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



DISCOURSE.* 



" Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest 

unto your souls." — Matt, xi : 29. _ 

I have not been idle this morning, my brethren, 
but as yet I have found few words of fit greeting for 
you on this day of God. I have seen the curtains 
of the night gently lifted up ; have looked at the 
first rays of morning, dappling the purpled East, and 
hailed the new-risen day, as emblematic of that dawn 
which shall yet break upon the night of the tomb. 

How should our hearts bound with holy joy on 
the return of every morning — especially of each 
Lord's day morning, as its gladdening beams break 
on our world ! It is God's salutation to his sin- 
stricken family here — it is heaven's *' good-morrow " 
to the wanderers of earth. Oh, from how many 
prostrate, yearning, bleeding, but hopeful hearts, is 
the salutation returned ! 

** These are thy works, Almighty Father, thine 
This universal frame ! How wondrous fair ! 
Thy self how wondrous then, who sittest above 
These heavens, to us invisible!" 



*This discourse was delivered by Dr. Pinkerton sometime during 
the year 1854, and was written out by him at the request of a sister 
in the Midway church. It is one of his ordinary Sunday morning 
talks to a village congregation, and yet it is scarcely a fair specimen 
of his regular sermons, for it doubtless lost something of its grace, 
and freshness, and tenderness in the after process of writing. J. S. 



DISCOURSE. 279 

It is sad to think how many fail to remember, with 
adoring hearts, the infinite Benefactor, and, by con- 
templation of his wonderful works, to throw upon 
their own hearts the shadows of celestial scenes. 
The Lord's day comes, and with it rest, and the 
gathering together for an hour of the scattered chil- 
dren of God. Their holy communings in the sanct- 
uary foreshadow that greater assembling in the New 
Jerusalem, where the ransomed hosts shall celebrate 
the Sabbath of Eternity. 

What, then, should I speak to you to-day, of com- 
fort, of exhortation, or of instruction ? Careless, 
cold, worldly-minded professor, what would you that 
I should say to you.'* Ye aged, who are nearing 
the dark valley, with what words of admonition dare 
I approach you ? Ye middle-aged, panting along 
the dusty high-way of life, under its noon-tide fer- 
vors, what message would you hear from me to-day ? 
Ye youthful, before whose vision life stretches away 
over flowery savannas, whose paths are pictured to 
lie along cool water-courses, and amid blooming and 
ever-fruitful groves, doomed, as you are, to sad dis- 
appointments — to eat the bitter apples of Sodom, as 
often as the grapes of Eschol, how shall I order my 
speech before you ? 

I have thought for all of you, I could not do 
better than to commend the beautiful virtue of hu- 
mility — beautiful, because becoming us in this oui 
fallen, sinful, and ruined estate. 

Words expressive of mental conditions, or of spir- 
itual states, are not easy of definition. Indeed, their 
meaning can not be fully apprehended but b}^ con- 
sciousness. Thence, whoever has not had experience 
24 



280 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

of any particular state of mind can not know it by 
mere verbal definition. But we may produce a 
feeling, which we can not define, or we may, fortu- 
nately, define it, by exciting it. Heaven grant that 
to-day we may all know what it is to be "lowly in 
heart.'' 

Pride was not meant for man — it ill befits him. 
By pride is not meant those little affectations of 
manner or dress, which more or less characterize 
all persons, of every age — which are seen alike in 
the milk-maid and in the princess, in the dandy and 
in the plow-boy. Pride results from a false estimate 
of ourselves, our circumstances, our actions, our 
birth, or fortune, and involves us in contrasts with 
our fellows, to their disparagement. Pride forever 
places true worth upon a false basis, and adopts a 
false standard by which to determine the actions of 
men. It is the offspring of a view of this present 
life which is essentially false, and as pernicious as 
false. We argue its unsuitedness to man, first, from 
the fact that it is displeasi7ig to God, Let us hear 
what He has said : 

" Pride and arrogancy do I hate. Pride goeth be- 
fore destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. 
Man's pride shall bring him low. Those that walk 
in pride he is able to abase. The pride of life is not 
of the Father, but is of the world/' 

Of the proud it is written — 

** God respecteth not the proud — the proud in heart 
he will not suffer. He knoweth the proud afar oflT. 
Godresisieth the proud." 

From such scriptures, which might be greatly 
multiplied, it is clear that in the sight of God pride 



DISCOURSE. 281 

is a chief sin. It is the parent of many sins ; it is 
allied with none but the malign and unlovely pas- 
sions, and sets its possessor in hostility to righteous- 
ness and peace. It can have no place in the king- 
dom of God. 

But, in the second place, pride is unreasonable ; 
yes, superlatively foolish ; because there is nothing 
pertaining to man, intrinsically, or in his circum- 
stances, of which he m.ay lawfully boast. His knowl- 
edge, how meager is it ! — so circumscribed, as to 
seem nothing, and very vanity. All extant history 
is not more, perhaps, than would be the life of one 
man fully written, and yet of that history, skeleton 
as it is, the wisest know but a small part. The ig- 
norant should not be proud in spirit. Man's virtue! 
Alas, what a poor account of it can the best render ! 
Our lives, at best, are a succession of blunders — 
weakness, short-sightedness, indecision, idleness, 
avarice. Or, if it be otherwise with man, it is so for 
a reason that precludes boasting. If he has, in any 
case, broken the fetters of the flesh, and risen to the 
higher virtues, he will say, with the heroic but- 
humble Paul, " By the grace of God I am what I am!' 
I like the story of John Bunyan, of whom it is re- 
corded, that when he saw a poor, fallen, sinful fellow 
mortal, he was accustomed to say, " But for the grace 
of God, there is John Bunyan." No ; spiritual ele- 
vation is with the lowly, and if, at any time, a Chris- 
tian shall find reason to thank God that he is not 
as some other men are, still, while he rejoices in the 
freedom of his ransomed powers and sanctified pas- 
sions, recollections of the great agony and bloody 



282 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

sweat of Calvary, and what transpired there; will 
' repress his pride. 

*' Jesus has loved me, I can not tell why." 

Wealth, what is it, that it should bloat the human 
heart with pride ? Are not the meanest of our race 
found among the wealthiest, as well as among the 
other classes ? Can gold ward off the shafts of 
death ? Is it a substitute for health, for virtue, for a 
good conscience ? We dwell not upon claims so ab- 
surd. Lazarus brought life to a higher, nobler issue, 
than the rich man. Lazarus was, indeed, the greater 
man. 

But, is our pride inclined to take a lower range, 
and join hands with personal vanity ? Do we boast 
of youth and beauty ? Each day is robbing us of 
the one, and undermining the other. I will not open 
the coffin, and ask the young and fair to look with 
me upon what they must soon become — a ghastly 
skeleton. Let them look upon the faded visages, 
the thinned and silvered locks, and bending forms, 
around them. From such we may learn a lesson of 
our own frailty, sufficiently impressive. 

** Or worn by swift revolving years 
Or broke by sickness in a day, 
The momentary glories fade — 

Our short-lived beauties die away." 

Alas ! we all do fade as the leaf, and our personal 
glories are fragile as the flower. If we place our 
hearts and hopes upon these, we are but treasuring 
up for' ourselves vexation and disgust, when the in- 
evitable day of decay shall arrive. 



DISCOURSE. 283 

** Youth, though yet no losses grieve you, 

Gay in health and many a grace, 

Let no cloudless skies deceive you — 

Summer gives to autumn place." 

We may give a sigh to the transient glories of 
youth, but this is all. We are a doomed race, and 
the grave is kindly appointed to hide our decay from 
the light of heaven. Let our hopes center in Him 
who has abolished death, and become our resurrec- 
tion and our life. Through His intervention, blessed 
be His name, 

<< Smiles and roses shall blend on the cold cheek of death, 
And beauty immortal awake from the tomb." 

We turn to the consideration of humility, lowli- 
ness of heart — the opposite of pride. 

And by all the reflections from which we infer the 
unfitness of pride for man, we prove the fitness of 
humility. It is fit he think not more highly of him- 
self than he ought to think. Indefinite as is his ca- 
pacity for improvement — allied as he is to the ce- 
lestial powers, he must yet " say to the dust. Thou 
art my mother ; and to the worm, Thou art my brother 
and my sister." He enjoys not the longevity of the 
oak, the strength of the horse, the fleetness of the 
hare, the vision of the eagle, nor the unerring in- 
stincts of the insect tribes. Let him, then, be not 
high-minded, for he is brother to all the poor, and 
miserable, and undone wanderers of earth. Oh, let 
him think of such in his best estate, as illustrating 
the sad possibilities to him and his, in this world of 
change, and extend to them a brother's greeting. 



284 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

** Greet them not scornfully, 
Think of them mournfully, 
Kindly and humanly." 

Poor, outcast brother, I will bid thee hail ! In the 
vveaiisome campaign of life, the soul has been well- 
nigh crushed out of thee. Thou hast seen days of 
sadness and gloom — poverty has tugged at thy heart- 
strings until they are past feeling, and thou hast 
given up the strife, and now awaitest, with indiffer- 
ence, the last earthly agony : 

** Fatherly, motherly, 

Sisterly, brotherly, 
Feelings estranged ; 
Love, by rude evidence 
Thrown from its eminence, 
Even God's providence 
Seeming estranged.'* 

There is hope for thee, nevertheless, if the more 
fortunate but humble of earth would but lend thee 
a helping hand — and, if, withal, thou trust in God. 

But I will not longer delay to open the Divine 
record, and hear what is there said of the virtue we 
are considering: 

The Lord '* forgetteth not the cry of the humble. 
Better is it to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, 
than to divide the spoil with the proud. The sacri- 
fices of God are a broken and contrite spirit. To 
this man will I look, even to him who is humble and 
of contrite spirit, and that trembles at my word. He 
that humbles himself shall be exalted. Put on, there- 
fore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels 
of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, 
long-suffering. Be clothed with humility. The 
Lord gives grace to the lowly." 



DISCOURSE. 285 

These few declarations, taken promiscuously from 
both Testaments, evince the estimate placed upon 
humility by Him who can not err. These, and any 
quotations we might make from the sacred volume 
on this subject, would be fitly concluded by the text. 
'' IJ* said the great Redeemer, " am meek and lowly 
in heart." What higher commendation could a 
virtue have than this ? It is exemplified in the char- 
acter of Him, in whom no fault was ever found — 
who is the chiefest among the ten thousands, and 
the one altogether lovely. " Lowly in heart." No 
affectation, no mere seeming — the humility is real. 

I would urge upon you the careful, prayerful cul- 
ture of this great virtue, from two additional con- 
siderations : 

As pride is the parent of many vices, so humility 
is the parent of many virtues. A man may not be 
truly humble, without being, in many respects, what 
he ought to be. Humility enables one to enjoy the 
kind benefactions of the Infinite Father, and pre- 
pares him to submit to his chastisement in quietude 
and meekness. Humility scatters the bounties of 
the rich, and sends gladness to the habitations of 
those that are ready to perish. It prompts to for- 
giveness of injuries, because it teaches us how much 
we need to be forgiven. It engenders liberality, by 
making its subject feel that he has nothing, sin ex- 
cepted, that he did not receive. It is a cardinal 
virtue, bringing in its train all the benign aff'ections, 
and leading to penitence and prayer. How should 
we admire that divine benevolence which appoints 
us to cultivate this plant, whose flowers are peace 
and good will, gentleness and long-suffering — whose 



286 LIFF. OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

fruits are penitence, piety, pity, love, and rest unto 
the soul! 

Lastly — It is in lowliness of heart alone that any 
shall find rest unto the soul. And here, I am pained 
to think of that vast inquietude, that deep unrest, 
which mainly characterizes the church scarcely less 
than the world, in the present day. Some capital 
mistake has been committed — we have not learned 
of Christ, else should we have found rest, even the 
peace of God, that passes understanding. I presume 
the text means that we are so to learn of Christ as 
to be, like him, ever meek and lowly in heart — that 
this learning, with this result, is the condition of the 
soul's promised rest. 

How arduously, and yet how vainly, do mortals 
strive after rest in ways of their own devising. I re- 
member to have heard Kentucky's great and honored 
statesman, now in the tomb, quote some lines from 
Goldsmith, as expressive of his experience in the 
race for glory and renown. Alluding to his long 
public career, and his purpose in resigning his seat 
in the Senate, his weariness which all his toils had 
brought him, he concluded : 

" And as a hare, which hounds and horiis pursue, 
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
I still had hopes — my long vexations past, 
Here to return, and die at home at last." 

Subsequently, the great senator turned him to 
the lowly One, and sought rest to his soul. Others, 
of equal renown, have borne the same testimony to 
the unsatisfactory return of earth's chiefest gifts. 
Jackson, the triumphant, the dauntless, renowned as 
warrior and statesman, loaded with honors, military 



DISCOURSE. 287 

and civic — turned from them away, when the shadows 
of death began to fall upon his soul, and he, too, 
based his last hopes of rest in the promises of Jesus. 
I might add the testimony of a greater than either — 
the illustrious Webster, so recently gone. Monarch 
of the forum — victorious in many a polemic battle, 
with foes worthy of his steel — he feels that his hour 
is at last come, and composes himself to die. He 
looks back on the way he has come — he has been 
successful — his memory will be cherished — his works 
will live — his countrymen will rear a monument to 
his fame — the splendors of his genius will remain to 
light his aspiring young countrymen along the path- 
way of glory, and to guide the jurist through mazes 
of doubt to truth and certainty. But all this is van- 
ity now to the great orator, and the wail of *' The 
Elegy" sounds mournfully through the chambers of 
his heart. 

" Can storied urn or animated bust, 

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust ? 

Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ? " 

Few things have occurred in our day more note- 
worthy and significant, or more deeply affecting, than 
Webster's quotations on his dying couch, at Marsh- 
field. He turned from all he had done and been, to 
what he then was, and in the prospect of what he 
might become, he spoke of Jesus, and cast his part- 
ing soul upon the covenant mercies of God. *' Thy 
rod and staff! Thy rod and staff!" Murmuring the 
hopeful song of IsraeFs shepherd king, the spirit of 
the mighty senator entered the dark valley of death. 

And shall we learn noth-ing from examples such as 
25 



288 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

these? Can we excel them in honor, in riches, in 
fame? Shall we find rest where they found it not ? 

Lowliness of heart subtracts nothing from one's 
manliness. It is, indeed, the crown and glory of 
manhood, and stamps its possessor with true nobil- 
ity. From the valley of humility we obtain the 
grandest visions of human destiny, and see what we 
may become. Humility is the most ornate virtue 
of the gentler sex, and like its twin sister, meek- 
ness, is, in the sight of God, of great price. 

To the inquiry, then, Where shall rest be found ? 
we return this answer : Learn of Jesus, and you 
shall find rest unto your souls. In his religion, re- 
ceived in his spirit only, shall the weary and heavy- 
laden find rest. How clearly did the beautiful, the 
amiable Charles Wesley see this, and how happily 
he expresses it! 

<* Rest for my soul I long to find, 
Savior of all, since mine thou ^rt, 
Give me thy meek and lowly mind, 
And stamp thy image on my heart." 

We need not approve all the poet said or did, for 
no man is perfect ; but surely we may love and 
praise, too, " the beneficent genius who has sung for 
us so nobly and so truly." 

And what is this rest of the soul when found ? 
We do not well know what to answer to this. It is 
I he peace of God, passing understanding. 

** What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, 
TJie souPs calm sunshme^ and the heartfelt joy." 

It is heaven on earth begun — it is the germ of eter- 
nal life, the earnest of an eternal inheritance. Who 
shall describe the emotions with which he looks 



DISCOURSE. 289 

upon the varied scenes of nature — the sun, when, 
like a king, he comes through the gates of day, 
when he careers in mid-heaven, or passes behind 
his gorgeous pavihon of clouds, in the glorious 
West! Who shall speak for the night, mantled in 
the silver light of moon and stars, going on quietly 
and forever in their appointed courses ? 

Shall nature, then, enwrap the soul, and fill the 
heart with indescribable emotions, and must all a 
ransomed soul can know of the grace of God be 
brought within the rules of syntax ? Never. " Be- 
lieving," says an apostle, "you rejoice with a joy 
unspeakable and full of glory." May you, then, seek 
and find this rest. May you, indeed, learn of 
Christ, who is meek and lowly in heart, and may 
you be like him. Thus you shall find rest ; and liv- 
ing and dying, God will be yours, and you shall be 
his. 

Blessed Redeemer, thou art true to thy kind 
promises to the weary and heavy-laden — they have 
found rest in learning of thee, and, clothed with hu- 
mility, they rejoice in hope of praising the wonders 
of thy love in the upper sanctuary. Amen. 



APPENDIX. 



The editor of this volume expected to have a chapter 
from the pen of Prof. Burnett J. Pinkerton, Dr Pinker- 
ton's oldest living son, on the domestic life of the Doc- 
tor — his life at home with his wife and children — but 
various untoward circumstances have hindered the execu- 
tion of the work. The following thoughts and incidents 
have been suggested in the course of the editor's conver- 
sation and correspondence with Prof. B. J. Pinkerton, and 
he is unwilling that the book shall appear without them. 

Prof. Pinkerton says of his father that he always read a 
little after lying down at night, saying that a man could 
^^ nibble" through a great many books in a life-time in 
that way. In the house, unless engaged in conversation, 
he was never without a book, paper, etc., in his hand. 
In this manner he kept up with the literature of the day. 

While he lived in Midway, some friend, his brother 
Colin, perhaps, sent him a pencil-sketch, representing 
him as lying down on a sofa or lounge, with the boys and 
dogs around in pursuit of a cat, which had taken refuge 
under the lounge, while he seemed wholly oblivious of the 
barking, and squabbling, and shouting; so intent is he upon 
the book which he holds in his hand. The title of the 
work was (Jeremy Taylor's) ^^ Holy Living and Dying; " 
while the humorous friend called his sketch, '^Heart's 
Ease." 

He was very fond of gardening. There seemed to be a 

strange fascination about the spring time for him; and it 

was, perhaps, for the sake of its benign influences that he 
(290) 



"^ APPENDIX, 291 

assiduously kept himself in the midst of its oJDening life. 
He would walk out into his garden forty times a day. 

He never hunted ; there was always something too 
much like murder in that to be sport to him. But he was 
passionately fond of fishing. During the Midway life he 
fished a great deal in South Elkhorn. He would catch his 
own minnows in the little Lee branch that flows through 
Midway — say, Friday afternoon, and early Saturday morn- 
ing, with his boys, he would walk out to the creek, a dis- 
tance of two miles, and spend the entire day upon its 
banks. He never loved to fish in d^pond or in sluggish 
water ; he always loved the water as it coursed past cliffs, 
or splashed and sang among the rocks. There was cer- 
tainly a strange spell in the waters for him ; a wonderfully 
tranquillizing influence. He would always preach the 
better on Sunday for having spent the previous day upon 
the ** murmuring stream. '' At least, such was the testi- 
mony of the Midway people. On one occasion, a stranger 
visiting the village happened to see him splashing around 
in the brook after minnows, in a very unclerical and un- 
dignified way ; and on the following Sunday, after hearing 
him preach one of his most inspiring, most inspired ser- 
mons, and learning that the preacher was the same man 
he had seen after the minnows, was astounded beyond all 
expression. He always took his boys with him, and if 
any one of them broke down on the home-stretch, he 
would mount him on his back, and carry him, till the next 
one needed him, and so on home. 

Prof. Pinkerton, speaking of his father^s remarkable />/- 
timacy with his children, said : ** When we were little fellows 
he would ro7np with us; after we grew older, he would 
walk with us, and talk with us; always wanted some one 
of us to ride with him, when going to preach in the coun- 
try. He joked with us — in a word — he was a boy among 
his boys— yet never in a single instance, do I remember, 
did he say or do the least thing that in any way marred 



292 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Qwx profound reverence for him. If any man were pure in 
heart and speech, he, surely, was that man ; while his fa- 
miliarities only intensified our ever-increasing love for 
him ; a matter not sufficiently attended to by fathers. He 
made us his confidants^ and more and more during the last 
years of his life. It always deeply affected me to have 
my father counsel ^^^'w^x me concerning his own plans. But 
his familiarity with us rendered his reproofs and rebukes 
only the keener ; his love never degenerated into foolish 
and blind affection — into weak fondness — he saw our 
faults, our weaknesses, sooner than any one else, and was 
prompt to rebuke. Yet he ever * spoke the truth in 
love.' I think I tell the simple truth when I say that all 
of us boys, and our sisters too, loved the society of our 
father more than of any one in the world. We preferred 
to be with him, to talk to him, to have his companion- 
ship. There was no intimate friend, no chum, no boy, 
no girl, for whose society we would leave his. To this 
unifying influence, I attribute the exceedingly strong at- 
tachment which exists between us children to-day; we 
like each other better than we like anybody else. 

*^\nd all this simply illustrates a very important matter 
connected with his domestic life — namely, his method of 
rearing his children, of governing his family; he ruled us 
by principles, not by codes of laws. His government was 
purely paternal, in no respect despotic. He ruled us by 
love.'' 

TWO OR THREE HUMOROUS INCIDENTS. 

Burnett says: *' I remember several times hearing him 
tell a little incident in grandpa's life at Midway ; at which 
he laughed till the tears rolled down his cheek, so keen 
was his enjoyment of the ludicrous. Strange compound 
of ^unutterable sadness of heart,' and love of the humor- 
ous ! ' Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, thrill the 
deepest notes of woe ! ' Grandpa, it seems, had asked 
him for some cabbage-plants. Pa says the old gentle- 



APPENDIX. 



293 



man, to his infinite amusement, brought a bushel basket 
for the plants, where you could have put all he had in a 
pint cup ! ** 

Many years ago, one of his friends, a firm believer in 
spiritualism, wrote to him that the angel Gabriel, was in 
the neighborhood of Midway, and would shortly mani- 
fest himself to him (the doctor). The doctor replied 
that Cromwell, having broken up Barebone's Parlia- 
ment, certain refractory members remained in the House, 
and questioned his authority. They were soon interrup- 
ted by Col. White with a party of soldiers who asked 
them what they did there. 

*' We are seeking the Lord,*' said they. 

*' Then you may go elsewhere,*' replied he ; *' for to my 
certain knowledge he has not been here these many years." • 
So the doctor said to his friend, Give yourself no care 
about this promised visit of the angel Gabriel, for to my 
certain knowledge he has not been about Midway these 
many months. 

Meeting an old acquaintance one day, the doctor said 
to him— ** You look fat and well.'* 

** Oh, yes," was the reply, '* it is because I have a good 
conscience." 

^' Ah ! " said the doctor, ** I fear it is because you have 
none at all.'* 

On one occasion, two old negroes, a man and a woman, 
got into a fiery quarrel in his kitchen, and the woman 
threatened to cut the man's throat. The old fellow re- 
ported the threat to Dr. Pinkerton, who immediately pro- 
cured a whetstone and a butcher-knife, and then sent for 
Milly. She made her appearance in a towering passion. 
*'Milly," said the Doctor, *^I understand you have 
threatened to cut Isaac's throat, and as it is a very Chris- 
tian act, I desire to see it well done, so get ready while I 
sharpen this knife" — all the while whetting the knife. 
She broke down under the ridicule, and amid shouts ol 



294 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

laughter, beat a retreat to the kitchen, heartily ashamed 
of her threatened violence. Ridicule is the one thing that 
a Kentucky negro can not stand. 

The editor of the Standard is responsible for the follow- 
ing. In the year 1867, being unwell. Dr. Pinkerton went 
to the ** Water Cure,'* near Cleveland, O., and he found 
the fare rather meager for his appetite. During his so- 
journ there, he paid a friendly visit to Dr. Robinson of 
Cleveland. The Doctor's dog came into the room 
muzzled. Dr. Pinkerton asked, ** Why do you keep that 
dog muzzled in this barbarous fashion ? '' 

Dr. Robinson replied, humorously, *' We are afraid that 
he will eat too much." 

"Ah ! *' said Dr. Pinkerton, "then take the muzzle off, 
and send him to the Water Cure.'* 

GRAVER MATTERS. 

There was a deep undercurrent of sadness running 
through his whole nature. His morning songs were al- 
ways in the minor key ; indeed nearly all his favorite 
music was in that key. He loved the Scotch airs, such 
as, "Saw ye my wee thing," "Highland Mary," "An- 
nie Laurie." Tennyson's " Break, Break, Break," touched 
him deeply. When in repose, his face was always a sad face. 
His eyes had that " far away " look in them that bespoke 

**The soul's vague longings, 
The aching void which nothing earthly fills." 

The hymn, " I shall be satisfied," from which these 
words were taken, always seemed the very mirror of his 
heart. 

His prayers at home were always of the same spirit as 
his public prayers— full of pathos, tenderness, sweetness, 
hope. They were not rhetorical prayers; they were not 
wordy prayers ; they were not theological prayers, though 
they abounded in the language of inspiration ; always aptly 



APPENDIX. 



295 



quoted, because it so fully voiced the aspirations and in- 
spirations of his own spirit. 

An anecdote will illustrate his kindness of heart, and at 
the same time another matter af interest. Once, just be- 
fore he left Midway for Harrodsburg, a neighbor sent for 
him in the night-time, to go a mile into the country. 
The man was suffering with scrofulous rising in his ears, 
and needed a regular physician. But he preferred to have 
Dr. Pinkerton with him, and so he walked the mile in the 
night, taking Burnett with him for company, and did all 
he could to relieve the poor fellow. To those Midway 
people, especially to the poor, he was like an angel from 
heaven. They had almost absolute superstitious confi- 
dence in his wisdom — in his power to do any thing and 
every thing. He was their preacher, teacher, physician, 
counselor, friend. They trusted him with unbounded 
confidence, and had an affection for him which was simply 
marvelous. Not even the bitterness of the war could 
wholly destroy it. The same thing occurred at Harrods- 
burg, though, of course, not to the same extent, owing to 
the shortness of his stay. But even in the few years he 
was there, he grew wonderfully into the affections of the 
people, especially of the poor. The students loved him. 
He was companionable j did not repel them. They ad- 
mired him, and always came to him when they had got 
into any difficulty. A gentleman of Richmond, Ky., 
Charles Turner, Esq., Burnett says, scarcely ever meets 
him, that he does not allude to his father's interference 
in his behalf, when he happened to be summoned before 
the Faculty for some misdemeanor. A strange attraction 
to him was exhibited by a young girl at Cane Run, Ada 
Tipscomb. She would bring flowers to him to church, and 
has frequently written to him since her removal to Illi- 
nois, and her marriage there. Such affection on the part 
of the young and of the poor may be counted the high- 
est testimonial to the wonderful gentleness, purity, and 



296 LIFE OF L. L, PINKERTON. 

benevolence of his disposition. To be loved by any one 
is very sweet to the human heart ; but the affection of 
the young, and the very poor, and ignorant, while pecul- 
iarly precious in itself, is a strong evidence of one's own 
innate loveliness and nobility of spirit. 

In a letter to the editor, Burnett says — '' I must not for- 
get a matter mentioned to you before, illustrative of his 
carefulness in regard to all religious matters, his intense 
desire to have all appreciate religion at its true value ; to 
thoroughly understand its nature. April 12, 1857, I made 
confession of faith in the Savior : it was Sunday, my four- 
teenth birthday. Bro. Ricketts preached that day. I was 
to be baptized on Thursday afternoon, after prayer-meet- 
ing. My father had been absent to fill a regular appoint- 
ment on Sunday ; but was at home the evening of the immer- 
sion. He came to me in my room, when I was making 
preparation for the immersion, and talked to me concern- 
ing the matter. I remember especially his anxiety to 
have me act deliberately, for he asked me whether my mind 
was fully made up ; whether I desired to postpone the 
matter; whether I was perfectly willing to take the im- 
portant step, or felt like giving it up entirely. '* 

He never entered a house that he did not at once make 
himself at home, making all feel at ease in his company, 
and that they were entertaining a friend and not a 
stranger. He always bound such families as he chanced to 
board with to himself, by the ties of a very warm and 
lasting affection. They always loved him, and felt that 
he was one of them. He was at ease in the palace of the 
rich, and in the hovel of the negro — always the same. 

His distaste for every thing clerical. He claimed nothing 
at the hands of any body, on the score that he was a 
preacher. He wanted to be known as a man. He de- 
manded the rights due his manhood. He would be no 
dead-head. He was infinitely more than a mere D. D., — 
a preacher. He was one of God's noblemen. 



ELDER JOHN TAFFE. 297 



RECOLLECTIONS OF DR. PINKERTON 

BY ELDER JOHN TAFFE. 

Elder John Taffe has kindly written out for the 
editor several "installments '' of his recollections of 
Dr. Pinkerton, from which the following selections 
have been made. To the readers of this volume who 
know Bro. Taffe, his simple-hearted, affectionate, 
sincere utterances will not be without most touching 
interest ; to all, they commend most lovingly the 
life of a very noble man, and manifest the beauty of 
a true Christian friendship, which time can not dis- 
solve, and which death can but make eternal. 

Dr. Pinkerton and Elder John Taffe first met, as 
related in the foregoing narrative, in Wilmington, O., 
in the summer of 1838. Bro. Taffe says: 

'*I heard of him next year, (1839) in Shelby and Old- 
ham Counties, Kentucky, where, with other preaching 
brethren, he held some very successful meetings, at which 
great numbers became obedient to the faith. One of these 
series of meetings was near Brownsboro, at which there 
were more than a hundred accessions to the cause of prim- 
itive Christianity. Quite a large number of them were 
from the ranks of the Baptists. Dr. Pinkerton was 
there, one of the chief speakers, and gained the confi- 
dence, affection, and esteem of the entire community. 
He occasionally visited us, and preached for us at the 
Harrods Creek church, near Brownsboro, to the growth 
of which he had so largely contributed, and where I ha^ 



298 LIFE OF L. L. PINKEKTON. 

taken membership that spring. When it was known that 
he was to preach we had a full house, and he always spoke 
to the profit and pleasure of the congregation. 

'' Dr. Pinkerton soon after this removed to Fayette 
County, Ky., to devote himself to preaching, and in 1841, 
took charge of the church in Lexington. He continued 
occasionally to visit us and to preach for us in Oldham, 
where all were his warm friends. On the occasions of his 
visits he usually spent a considerable portion of his time 
at Bro. John Snyder's, where I was living. We always had 
a perpetual moral and intellectual feast while he re- 
mained. Bro. Snyder was one of the elders of the church 
— a man of fine sense and of a large heart — kind, genial, 
hospitable, and benevolent, with a large vein of wit and 
humor in his composition — the very man to love Dr. 
Pinkerton and to enjoy his society. They were warm and 
devoted friends of each other.* How hallowed and pleas- 
ing the reminiscences of them, and how joyous the hope 
of soon meeting them in the land of the blest ! where all 
tears shall be wiped from every eye, and where the blessed 



*John Snyder died about the 20th of April, 1853. In a notice 
of his death wriUen at the time, Dr. Pinkerton thus sets forth his 
endowments : 

** Bro. Snyder was eminently and variously endowed. His knowl- 
edge of men was extensive and minute, and in all the affairs of 
lif^, great and small, he exercised that discriminating prudence 
which characterizes minds of the first order. He was well read in 
the sacred Scriptures, and conversant with the religious movements 
of his time. He was singularly gifted with constructiveness. He 
was millwright, carpenter, blacksmith, shoemaker, saddler, brick 
and stone-mason, and, indeed, in the mechanical departments 
whatever he chose to be. But better than all, he was a philanthro- 
pist. His house and heart were open to the needy, and he was in 
his community foremost in every good work. His work on earth 
is ended, his sufferings over ; his last farewells have been spoken. 
We shall see him again, but not now; on mount of Zion, by grace 
we shall renew our companionship, and join to praise the Lord that 
giiided us home." . ' 



TEMPERANCE. 299 

Jesus will be the light and center of all the joy y and beati- 
tude of the redeemed forever. 

*^The temperance movement at that time had made 
little or no progress in the neighborhood. Indeed, scarcely 
a wave of the important movement had at that time 
reached that community. There was in it quite a num- 
ber of small distilleries, and all of the elders of the 
church, three in number, were in a small way engaged in 
the business at certain seasons of the year; though, to 
their honor be it spoken, they were all very temperate, 
excellent men, and would not sell any liquor to an in- 
temperate man ; indeed, there were few such in the neigh- 
borhood, for it is due to the community to state that not- 
withstanding the number of small distilleries in it, it was 
a very temperate neighborhood, which wasdoubtless largely 
owing to the fact that there, were no drinking saloons or 
tippling houses in it. The keepers of those pandoras of 
mischief impoverish and destroy vastly more persons and 
families in these United States than all other thieves, and 
robbers, and murderers combined. 

'' Dr. Pinkerton was a total abstinence man in princi- 
ple and in practice, and, therefore, opposed to the distil- 
lation and vending of intoxicating liquors as a beverage. 
And he had the moral courage and manhood to advocate 
his views on all suitable occasions in the face of any op- 
position. Once when he was at Brother Snyder's, there 
was a considerable company of Disciples and Baptists 
there, all opposed to the great temperance movement, as an 
infringement of the freedom of the American citizen; not 
realizing that true freedom is the liberty to think and to 
act for ourselves within the just limits of our obligations 
and duties to God and man, and that we must so use our 
liberty as not thereby to injure another, and that all be- 
yond is licentiousness and not liberty, 

**The temperance question was broached by some one, 
and opposition to it expressed. Dr. Pinkerton, true to his 



300 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

convictions, soon became engaged in the discussion of the 
question. One after another the company joined the 
conflict until all were engaged, and in opposition to the 
Doctor, save myself. It was a warm, though not an angry 
discussion. Though the Doctor maintained his ground 
nobly against the whole opposition, in the midst of the 
discussion I went into it on the side of the Doctor, and 
the evils of the liquor traffic were pretty thoroughly ven- 
tilated. 

*' The Doctor, years after, told me that he never knew me 
until that occasion, and in a serio-comic manner remarked 
that I came dashing into the conflict as one of Bonaparte's 
marshals, (naming him) came rushing headlong into a 
great battle in which Bonaparte was engaged, at the very 
crisis of the engagement — that I was very popular, and 
yet, that I did not hesitate to place myself in direct opposi- 
tion to the prevailing sentiments of the neighborhood in 
regard to the liquor traffic, and that I was never as popu- 
lar afterwards as before. 

** However, my views in regard to temperance might 
have affected my standing with others, I do not think 
that I lost any thing in the estimate in which I was held 
by the elders ; for chiefly through the arguments and in- 
fluence of Dr. Pinkerton and myself, they were induced 
to give up the making and vending of intoxicating liquors ; 
save that two of them afterwards, on one occasion each, 
made a small quantity of apple brandy. They were good 
men, and would not persist in a wrong after they were 
convinced, nor would they persist in a course of conduct 
which good brethren, whom they respected, regarded as 
morally reprehensible. 

** A man who has not the moral courage to stand up for 
the right in the midst of any opposition, can not be a 
disciple of the great Teacher and moral Hero sent down 
from heaven. 

'* On occasion of one of Dr.- Pinkerton*s visits to Har- 



FORGIVENESS. 3OI 

rods Creek, near Brownsboro, Oldham County, after hav- 
ing preached for us at Harrods Creek, and spent a few 
days in the neighborhood, Elder John Carr, his sister- 
wife, and myself accompanied him to the Flat Rock 
church, where he had an appointment to preach. It was 
a week-day, and there were very few out to hear him. He 
preached, however, a most admirable discourse on the set- 
tlement of private and personal difficulties between breth- 
ren. He spoke from Matt, xviii : 15-17, and Matt, v: 
23-25. He first took up Matt, xviii : 15 ; and presented 
in a very striking and beautiful manner the duty and ob- 
ligation of a brother against whom another brother had 
trespassed, to go at once, without making known the tres- 
pass to a single human being, to the erring brother in the 
true spirit of his divine Master, and in love and mercy to 
expostulate with him and endeavor to reclaim him from the 
error of his way. He showed that if in this spirit, and in 
love and mercy, he would expostulate with him, if the 
offending brother had any sense of honor or any love for 
the blessed Savior, it would call it into activity, and save 
and redeem the offender from the error of his way. If, how- 
ever, the injured brother failed of success in this errand 
of mercy, that he must take the other steps prescribed by 
the merciful Redeemer to save and recover the erring 
brother. 

But, remarked the Doctor, suppose you have trespassed 
against a brother who has cause of complaint against you, 
there is a law in the fifth chapter of Matthew that applies 
to your case. He then called attention to Matt, v : 23, 
24, 25 ; and said if you have wronged a brother, or he has 
grounds of complaint against you, you must go at once 
and make amends for the wrong, or explain the case, if 
that is all that justice and brotherly love demand in order to 
satisfy the aggrieved brothers, and to procure a reconcil- 
iation with him. He showed from the language of the 
Messiah the urgency of the case, and the haste with whic'i 



302 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

we should proceed to set oui*selves right. He showed 
most clearly and forcibly the importance of the prompt 
observance of these great precepts of mercy and of justice, 
in order to set our erring brethren right, and to set our- 
selves right if we have in aught trespassed against any 
of them, or given them any cause of complaint against us. 

**The discourse was one of great value, and I got from 
it several important items, which were of much service to 
me ill a more elaborate discussion of the subjects which he 
discussed but briefly. His discourse was full of the seeds 
of practical truth. 

** After Dr. Pinkerton resigned his pastorate of the 
church in Lexington, he spent a year or two in the field 
as a general evangelist, and as soliciting agent for the en- 
dowment of Bacon College. During this period it was my 
happiness to meet him occasionally. I always did so when 
I could, to enjoy the pleasure of his society and the bene- 
fit of his preaching, for I always heard him with pleasure 
and profit. His discourses were so heart-searching, so sug- 
gestive, and so calculated to lead the hearer to turn the 
eye of the mind inward to examine himself, and to make 
new resolves for purer, higher, and more godly living. 
There was always to me also a peculiar charm in his so- 
ciety — a humor, a freshness, a geneality and life that were 
captivating and inimitable. Our friendship for each other 
was of the truest, warmest, and most confiding nature. 

^' He located in Midway, in 1845 — bought several acres 
of land just south of the small village — erected a 
large, substantial brick building, and opened a female 
academy. Being well and favorably known throughout a 
large portion of the State, he soon had quite a large 
number of boarders, as well as a liberal patronage from 
the village and surrounding neighborhood. The just ex- 
pectations of his patrons were fully realized, and he gained 
for himself a high and well-deserved reputation as an edu- 



THE ORPHAN SCHOOL. 303 

cator, and was liberally sustained as long as he thought 
proper to continue his school. 

'' After establishing himself there, he conceived the 
idea of founding, in the immediate neighborhood, a female 
orphan school, for the care and education of destitute fe- 
male orphan children. He enlisted some other influential 
brethren in the enterprise, obtained a charter, and the fe- 
male orphan school that has done so much credit to the 
brotherhood of Kentucky was organized. It owes its 
origin to the excellent heart and fertile brain of this 
gifted and accomplished Christian philanthropist. Fortu- 
nately James Ware Parrish, one of the elders of the church, 
lived only a little over a mile from the site chosen for the 
school. He was a man of a large heart, of a vigorous 
cultivated mind, of considerable fortune, and wholly de- 
voted to the mighty enterprise of human redemption and 
the advancement of the great cause of Christian philan- 
thropy. He was a warm friend and true yoke-fellow of 
Dr. Pinkerton. He devoted most of the after part of his 
life in looking after the interests of this institution, and in 
raising funds for its building and endowment, toward 
which he contributed most munificently of his own income. 
He did not simply acknowledge with his lips, when on 
his knees before God, that all he had and all he was be- 
longed to the Lord, but as a faithful steward, after the sup- 
port of his family, he devoted all his income to promote 
the great cause for which the blessed Redeemer had given 
up the honors and bliss of heaven, and had suffered and 
died the most dreadful death that the universe ever be- 
held ; for which he had conquered death — rose again, and 
for the consummation of which he ever lives and reigns. 
But for Bro. Parrish's generous efforts and true Christian 
liberality, the institution would probably have languished, 
and, perhaps, have perished for the want of means. 

*' The devotion of his time and means with such profuse 
and hearty liberality, was an eloquent appeal to the hearts 
26 



304 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

and consciences of men of fortune to contribute liberally 
to this noble Christian enterprise, and often gave succ-ess 
to the plea, which, in other hands, and urged by a less 
eloquent and consistent advocate, might have failed. 
There is cause of abundant thanksgiving to God, for giv- 
ing to Kentucky those great and good men, and through 
them the female orphan school, with the other benefits and 
blessings which they conferred upon Kentucky and their 
kind. 

'^During Dr. Pinkerton's residence at Midway, he 
built up there, chiefly by his own labors, a large and flour- 
ishing church. While he lived in Midway, I visited him 
and Bro. Parrish and other brethren, as often as I found 
it convenient. The charm of Bro. Parrish 's society was 
only second to that of Dr. Pinkerton. He was a true 
man, intelligent, sprightly, genial, humorous and mirth- 
ful, without the least taint of selfishness in his composi- 
tion, wholly devoted to the honor of God, to doing good 
to man, to the enjoyment of the society of the pure and 
the good, to the reciprocation of all the courtesies and 
pleasantries of life, and to the promotion of the great 
cause of human redemption. 

^' He told me in July, 1856, when I was at his hospita- 
ble home on a visit paid to him from Bloomington, Illi- 
nois, at his special request, when he was in the last stages 
of the consumption — a disease that had destroyed all of 
his race, mostly by the time they were fifty or before — 
that from the time he had embraced Christianity his life 
had been a perpetual feast. Placed in easy circumstances, 
he had been wholly occupied in doing good, and in en- 
joying the public ministrations and the friendly converse 
of Dr. Pinkerton, and other good and genial friends. He 
said from the history of his family he knew that he could 
not live long, and that what he did he must do quickly. 
He, therefore, busied himself in a life of active benefi- 
cence — ever engaged in doing good and in receiving 



FRIENDSHIP 



305 



good. He partook largely of the mind and character of 
his divine Master. 

^* How sweet the odor of his memory ! How happy he 
was in having such a companion as Dr. Pinkerton, and 
how happy was Dr. Pinkerton to have the enjoyment of 
the sweet society of this lovely man ! Such men are the 
true riches of the world. By faith they had been with 
the blessed Jesus in the sorrows of Gethsemane and the 
awful throes and agonies of that peerless one on the cross 
of Calvary. Their hearts had been brought near to that 
bleeding, breaking heart ; they had caught its warm and 
mighty impulses of love, which dominated and controlled 
their whole conduct. They had learnt from that imper- 
sonation of all goodness the divine art of doing good, 
and to them it was a real luxury — their meat and drink, 
their joy and delight. 

** Dr. Pinkerton was a living fountain of kindness and 
humor, with the rarest gift of any man I ever knew for 
eliciting the humor of others, if they had any of that 
happy endowment in their nature. After he had got his 
school in successful operation, he put at me several times 
to come and live with him, and assist him in teaching, 
that he could not do without my society ; that I might do 
without his, but that he could not do without mine ; that 
it was indispensable to his happiness ; that he coul^ not 
give me much, but then that I could get preaching points 
within striking distance, and be able to make a living. I 
told him that remunerative preaching points within reach 
could not be secured. * Oh^ well,' said this prince of a man, 
' I can make enough for lis both, and you must come and 
live with me.' 

*'Such appeals from one I so much loved, and whose 
society gave so sweet a zest to life, and in which my own 
happiness was so bound up, were hard to resist. But I 
felt that though his school was large, and yickled him a 
good income, yet that his heart was also large, and that 



306 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

his income would not more than support his increasing 
family, and supply him with the means of that liberality 
to the needy children of want, and to other worthy ob- 
jects of Christian benevolence, which his generous nature 
and tender heart, as well as his convictions of duty, were 
ever prompting him to help. I felt that he could not em- 
ploy an assistant teacher and board him without injury to 
his finances ; and that to make myself a burden to the 
warmest friend I had on earth, and to turn aside to any 
extent from the calling to which I had given my heart 
and my life, would mar all my happiness. I was therefore 
compelled, from a sense of duty, to decline the generous 
proposal, and to cast my lot as Providence might indicate, 
more or less remote from this most genial and fascinating 
man, who had gained the warmest affections of my heart 
to possess them forever. 

** But on another occasion to have a little fun, the Doc- 
tor concluded to try a banter. * Bro. Taffe,' said he, 
*if you will take English grammar, vulgar fractions, and 
logic, I will manage the other classes.' * Doctor,' I re- 
plied : * I think you had better stick to vulgar fractions 
yourself; they just suit your genius,' 

**The Doctor looked grave and wholly innocent of any 
attempt at a banter, as he often did, when he had missed 
his game. 

** He published for awhile a small magazine, called 
the Christian Mirror^ a very creditable publication. It 
did not, however, receive a living patronage, and was 
discontinued. The Doctor was one day speaking of the 
scanty patronage which the work received. I remarked, 
by way of compliment to the Doctor, there was not hum- 
buggery enough about it to make it succeed. *Well,' 
added the Doctor *go out, Bro. Taffe, and make it a 
success!' The Doctor had me, and I simply replied : *Ah 
Doctor, that is unkind to treat my sympathy in that way.' 

<*I had once visited the Doctor, Bro. James Ware 



HUMOR. 307 

Parrish, and their families; thence had gone over to 
Bourbon County, and visited some relatives and friends 
there, had returned to Bro. Parrish's, and thence had 
gone to Midway. I went down on the street just south 
of the railroad depot. The Doctor's brother, Samuel, 
was then preaching for the church in Frankfort. The 
train upward bound arrived just at that moment. Sam- 
uel stepped off the train and joined me on the street; 
immediately the Doctor joined us, and after a most cor- 
dial greeting, the Doctor always full of fun remarked : 
'A great many great men traveling now.* *Yes,' I re- 
plied. ^But the greatest are not traveling now,' added 
the Doctor.' *No, I rejoined,' I have just suspended 
traveling. 

*'The Doctor and myself were once walking along a 
street in Midway — a stranger, on foot, who had the largest 
nose I ever saw on a man's face passed by, near to us. 
'There,' remarked the Doctor, *is a good subject for the 
study of nosology.' *Yes,' I replied, * and if the stu- 
dent should comprehend the whole subject, he would be 
a man of vast knowledge.' 'Yes,' added the Doctor. 
* and what is better, it would be foreknowledge. 

'' Dr. Pinkerton had a very happy and, often, effective 
way of administering reproofs for lapses or minor delin- 
quencies, to esteemed brethren in whom he had confi- 
dence. Not long after he opened his academy in Mid- 
way, an estimable young woman entered his school, whose 
parents, the Doctor thought, had too hard a struggle to 
support their family and make the two ends meet, to be 
able to meet the additional expense of her education. She 
was a good student, and the Doctor's kindness and be- 
nevolence would not permit him to turn her away; he 
therefore determined to educate her without charge to 
her or her parents — though he must have been much pressed 
for means to complete the payments for the land he had 
bought and the house he had built. He thought, how- 



308 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

ever, doubtless partly in view of the ministerial service 
he had rendered and was still rendering to the church 
free of charge, that the brethren, many of whom were in 
line circumstances, ought to contribute something toward 
the education of this worthy young sister. However this 
may be. Brother Frank Starks, a worthy member of the 
church then, and a very warm friend and admirer of Dr. 
Pinkerton, told me that the Doctor asked him how much 
he would give toward the education of the young sister, 
and that he replied, *A dollar.' *A dollar!* rejoined 
the Doctor. ^And how much did that pleasure-trip fish- 
ing down to the Kentucky River cost you?' (alluding 
to a trip he had lately taken.) He replied, * Ten dol- 
lars.' *Ten dollars I ' added the Doctor. *You can 
give ten dollars for a little pleasure-trip fishing, but <5an 
give only one dollar toward the education of a poor but 
highly worthy young woman. Ah!' he continued j * you 
are not half converted yet.' 

**On another occasion, on a visit to Dr. Pinkerton, 
James Ware Parrish, and their lovely families, I had an 
appointment to preach at New Union, four miles in an 
easterly direction from Midway, on the Lexington road. 
I had been trying to borrow a horse to ride to my ap- 
pointment on Lord's-day morning. I had applied to 

Brother F , who had a fine saddle-horse, and several 

horses that he worked in a rope factory, but his wife was 
on a visit near Lexington, and he might wish to go there 
on Lord's-day; therefore he could not spare his horse. 
Brother Parrish, always ready to accommodate if possible, 
though put to some inconvenience himself, had told me, 
if I failed to get a horse, to come to his house on Lord's- 
day morning and that he would let me have one of his 
horses if he had to borrow one for himself, for I must 
have a horse to ride to my appointment. I stayed all 

night at Brother F 's. Dr. Pinkerton came over just 

as we had finished our breakfast. After chatting a little 



REPROOF. 



309 



while I took my saddle-bags on my arm and started on 
my way to Brother Parrish's. I had got off about twenty- 
five steps, when Brother F called to me and told me 

I could have his horse. When I reached the house he told 
me that, as I was walking off, the Doctor said to him, 'Do 
you know what I am thinking about?' and that he replied, 
*No.V *Well,' added the Doctor, 'I was just thinking 
that it is a good thing that there is a devil.' *A good 
thing that there is a devil?' rejoined Brother F , in- 
quiringly. *Yes,' said the Doctor. 'Any man that can 
see a brother — a preacher take his saddle-bags on his arm 
and walk off two miles through the dust and heat to bor- 
row a horse to ride to an appointment, when he has five 

or six horses standing in his stable doing nothing ' 

* Why,' inquired Brother F , 'you do not think that 

it is a good thing that there is a devil to punish such a 
man as I am?' 'That is the very thing I was thinking 

about,' said the Doctor. Brother F then called me 

back and gave me his horse. 

'* Dr. Pinkerton, like all men of true humor, was in 
sympathy with his race and with every living thing capa- 
ble of enjoying pleasure or suffering pain. In times of 
relaxation from study — from the active duties of life, and 
the discussion of its grave problems — he was ever amusing 
and delighting you with his humor, or enjoying with keen 
relish the humor he was ever evoking from others, for 
which he had a most happy talent. He seemed to enjoy 
the humor of others with a greater zest than he did his 
own. This laid his true friends, who appreciated his ge- 
nial, affectionate nature, under contribution to minister 
to this beautiful trait of this richly-gifted man. I corre- 
sponded with him occasionally, when in Mississippi, from 
November, 1851, to June, 1853, and our correspondence 
was not without humorous chapters. [Dr. Pinkerton's let- 
ters to Elder Taffe were destroyed by a fire in lUinois. — Ed.] 

*' On my return from the South I spent several days in 



3IO 



LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



Louisville, Kentucky, with our excellent brother Henry 
T. Anderson, now also gone to his reward. While there 
I related to him an anecdote which I got in Mississippi of 
Brother William Baxter : A man came to Alleghany Town 
when Brother Church, a very excellent Christian gentle- 
man, was preaching there. He professed to be a preacher. 
Brother Church wished to treat him with courtesy, but he 
had been imposed upon by passing strangers calling them- 
selves preachers, and he did not think this a very prom- 
ising case. The brethren, however, met on Lord*s-day af- 
ternoons to break bread, read the Scriptures, and for prayer 
and exhortation ; Brother Church therefore concluded that 
he would put him up at their afternoon meeting, when few 
would be out save church-members, and see if he knew any 
thing about preaching. He was invited to speak. He 
arose and remarked : * In prayer I am feeble, in exhorta- 
tion I am weak, but, as for prea':hing, I can preach about 
as well as any of them.' He then struck off on the duties 
of an American citizen, spoke for awhile on that subject 
for the edification and comfort of the brethren, and round- 
ed to. The meeting over. Brother Church invited him 
home with him; and after being seated, he thought he 
would catechise him a little, and said to him, * You pro- 
fess to be a preacher— how, then, would you prove the 
truth of Christianity?' He replied, *Why, I would argiie 
it.' That would certainly satisfy the most skeptical. But 
inquired Brother Church, 'By what particular argument 
would you undertake to establish its truth ? ' * I would 
argue,' he rejoined, ' from its having been a long time 
in existence.' Brother Baxter thought he would put in 
a word just here, and asked him, *But would not that 
equally prove the truth of Mohammedanism ? ' The fel- 
low stretched himself up and, with a look of ineffable 
wisdom, replied, * But in that case, sir, the conflux of the 
argument does not subtend the analogy of the question.' 



AN ANECDOTE. 3X1 

Brother Baxter could iiot exactly say whether it did or 
not — and this ended the examination. I don't think the 
examining board granted a license. 

*' I had related this anecdote to Brother Anderson, and^ 
in the course of our conversation, he asked me what Dr. 
Pinkerton meant by saying, in an article which he had 
published, * that the foregone conclusions of Paley and 
others would not meet the present crisis of the skeptical 
world.* I told him I supposed the Doctor meant that *the 
conflux of the arguments in those cases did not subtend 
the analogy of the question.' I told him, when I saw the 
Doctor I would ask him if that was not his view of the 
subject. 

*^ After reaching Midway, in the presence of several 
friends, putting on as grave a face as I could, I said to 
the Doctor : ^ Doctor, Brother Anderson asked me what 
you meant by saying *'the foregone conclusions of Paley 
and others were not calculated to meet the -presenl crisis 
of the skeptical world," and I told him I supposed you 
thought that *' the conflux of the arguments in those cases 
did not subtend the analogy of the question." Was that 
your idea, Doctor ? ' Putting on one of his comical looks, 
he replied, 'Exactly.' I thought he might, perhaps, grave- 
ly ask me what I meant, and that I would then have him ; 
but he was too sharp for that, and I missed my game. 

** Dr. Pinkerton's friendship was of the truest, Wc'^rmest, 
and most disinterested kind. It was wholly free from self- 
ishness, and never faltered, unless he became convinced 
that it was misplaced. 

**In April, 1855, I left James Ware Parrish's for Bards- 
town, Illinois, in response to an invitation to preach there 
and at another point. According to promise, I called at 
Dr Pinkerton's to take leave of him and his amiable wife 
and family, but that loved one that almost made a part of 
my being was not there. He had left a brief note (God 

27 



3 [2 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

bless him forever !) informing me that he could not bear 
the parting, and was therefore purposely absent ; that that 
would be a gloomy day to him. 

'*A review of the incidents of my intercourse with the 
Doctor — the warm and unfaltering friendship that existed 
between us — how much kindness I received at his hands — 
how many tokens of his confidence and of his warm affec- 
tion and esteem — and thus considering how largely he con- 
tributed to the aggregate happiness of my life, I am most 
deeply and sensibly impressed with the great and irrepara- 
ble loss that I have sustained in his death — a loss, however, 
which has an infinite compensation in the consolation that 
he is now enjoying the bliss of the pure and the good in 
the presence of the Lord, whose he was and is, and whom 
he loved and served so long and so well. 

**I was hoping so to arrange my affairs that I could 
spend much of the evening of my life in his deh'ghtful 
society. When, years ago, I often expressed to him my 
anxiety about the means of living when age with its * sere 
and yellow leaf should come upon me, he would always 
tell me I should give myself no uneasiness about that mat- 
ter — that I had many friends who would take pleasure in 
having me to live with them, free from charge. Still, I 
could not bear the thought of being dependent for a living 
upon the charity of any one when, in old age, I should be 
no longer able to labor in word and doctrine, however 
great might be his love and esteem for me. But, alas ! 
those dear brethren, like the beloved Dr. Pinkerton, have 
passed away from earth, and I only remain to mourn their 
loss. And though God has given me a competence with 
his blessing, in future, yet my sorrow for the loss of those 
loved ones is none the less profound, and is only compen- 
sated by the consolation that they are all happy in the bet- 
ter land, and that we all shall soon meet again ' over the 
river,' never more to part. — I was hoping, if misfortune 
should overtake the Doctor in old age, that I might be 



A TARDY CORRESPONDENT. 313 

able to give him and his excellent sisiGv-wife a pleasant 
home, and feel myself more than compensated by their 
valuable society, and by making some return for the many 
favors I had received at their hands. 

*' But to return : Before leaving Midway and the neigh- 
borhood for Illinois I had made arrangements for corre- 
sponding with the Doctor and James Ware Parrish. The 
Doctor as a correspondent was frequently tardy. After 
reaching Illinois I kept up a regular correspondence with 
Brother Parrish, but Dr. Pinkerton did not come to time. 
I had written eight letters to him before I had received 
any in return — though his first letter was on the way to 
me when my eighth was written. I finally wrote to Brother 
Parrish that I had had a dearly beloved brother in Mid- 
way, the beloved Dr. Pinkerton, and that I was very sorry 
on account of his demise ; that I knew he was no more, 
because he had promised to write to me, and that he 
would have done so had he been living; that I had seen 
no obituary notice of him, but if one did not soon appear 
I would write one myself, as the last duty that the living 
owed to departed worth ; that there might be a specter or 
apparition stalking about Midway that they called Dr. 
Pinkerton, but that it was not the veritable Doctor — it 
was only a phantom. I concluded my letter by sending 
my love to various friends, and to the family of the Mate 
Dr. Pinkerton. ' Brother Parrish wrote me soon after that 
he received said letter one morning just as he and the 
Doctor were starting for Elkhorn (near by) to try their 
luck fishing; that they read it after reaching their fishing- 
place, and laughed until they made the banks of the Elk- 
horn fairly ring with the sound. The Doctor also wrote 
me soon after, telling me that I must continue to write to 
him, and that he would be more prompt since he had been 
' ivicked,' He improved somewhat, but was rarely very 
prompt. 

'*! visited Brother Parrish in the summer of 1856, from 



314 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

Bloomington^ Illinois, at his special request, to spend as 
much time with him as I could while he was able to en- 
joy (as he said) my society ; for he was approaching the 
last stages of consumption, to which disease all the Par- 
rishes fell victims before or soon after reaching the age 
of fifty. As usual when in the neighborhood, I had the 
pleasure of much of the Doctor's company. After spend- 
ing about four weeks, mostly at Brother Parrish's, chiefly 
in cheerful conversation on the great problems of Life and 
Death — on the responsible duties, the high hopes, and 
blissful expectations of the religion of the Great Messiah, 
interspersed with lighter topics — I took my leave of Brother 
Parrish and family, and called at Dr. Pinkerton's to take 
my leave of him and his family, and return to my charge 
in Bloomington ; but the Doctor was again intentionally 
absent, because the pain of parting was too much for him 
to bear. I had been unworthy of such tender regard had I 
loved the doctor less than myself. 

**I again returned to Kentucky in the winter of 1859, 
reaching Louisville the ist of February. After my return 
I visited the Doctor and family a few times ; and while I 
was preaching that year in Mount Sterling I had the great 
pleasure of one or two visits from him. On one of those 
occasions we learned that Brother Alexander Campbell was 
on a visit to Kentucky, and was then in Flemingsburg or 
neighborhood. The Doctor proposed that we should take 
the stage and go down and see him. The proposition was 
accepted with a glad heart, and we went down to see and 
hear the great man discourse in public and private on the 
high themes of the Christian religion. His monologues 
in the social circle, on the great topics, often equaled his 
finest pulpit efforts. 

**In i860 I again left Kentucky — for Tennessee and 
Mississippi. Mr. Lincoln was elected President in No- 
vember, i860. Several of the Southern States determined 
to secede from the Union. The climate in the South be- 



SURGEON IN THE ARMY. 315 

came rather too warm for the free and easy respiration of 
a good Union-man. Cotton ropes and grapevines were 
also rather plenty there, and there was some danger of 
a decided, out-spoken Union-man becoming entangled 
among them. I therefore left that hot and unpropitious 
section of country and returned to my native and long- 
loved Kentucky. 

''In 1 861, not long after my return to Jefferson County, 
I set out for Harrodsburg to see Dr. Pinker ton, his fam- 
ily, and other friends there, but especially Dr. Pinkerton. 
The storm of war was then gathering. Patriotic troops 
were assembling at Camp Dick Robinson, in preparation 
for the impending conflict. I visited the encampment, 
and returned to Harrodsburg. Dr. Pinkerton was then, 
as ever, a staunch and open advocate of the cause of the 
Union, and did much, by his able patriotic efforts, toward 
keeping Kentucky as a State in political harmony with the 
Union. 

''I subsequently returned to Jefferson County, and in July, 
1862, I again visited Harrodsburg — enjoying while there 
and in the neighborhood the hospitality of Dr. Pinkerton, 
of John B., A. H., and Dudley Bowman. The Doctor was 
still an able and active advocate of the great cause of the 
American Union. He resigned his professorship in the 
Kentucky University at Harrodsburg (or obtained leave 
of absence), gave up his salary there, and also gave up 
several churches to which he was preaching— relinquishing 
in all an income of about $2,500 to accept the appoint- 
ment of assistant-surgeon of the Eleventh Kentucky Cav- 
airy, which was conferred upon him. He was soon pro- 
moted to the chief surgeonship of that regiment. He 
thus gave up a valuable salary and the quiet of home to 
encounter the dangers and hardships of the tented field, 
in order that he might contribute what he could toward 
saving the great American Republic from disruption, and 
preserving the priceless heritage of American freedom. 



3t6 life of l. l. pinkerton. 

''His regiment had been ordered to Louisville, and he 
and I (on horseback) left Harrodsburg between sundown 
and dark on the day on which the rebel forces, after the 
battle near Richmond, Kentucky, got possession of Lex- 
ington — he to join his regiment, and I to avoid falling 
within the rebel lines, and to look out for a chaplaincy. 
We traveled all night and until about three o'clock p. m. 
next day, only stopping about an hour to get breakfast 
and to have our horses fed — making about sixty-seven 
miles, with only one hour's rest. The day was warm and 
clear. The Doctor complained very much of the heat, 
and a severe headache. He had no umbrella; I had one, 
and requested him to take it, but, in the nobility of his 
nature, he so peremptorily refused to accept the favor that 
I did not insist. I have many times regretted that I did 
not compel him to take it, for he obviously very narrowly 
escaped sun-stroke that day. A few days after, he was 
struck down with sun-stroke, which shattered his consti- 
tution, and from the effects of which he never entirely 
recovered. I was not with him at the time, but was en- 
joying the hospitality of my worthy friend. Brother Joseph 
A. Sweeny, and that of his excellent wife and family. 

''Upon returning from Louisville one evening. Brother 
S. told me that Dr. Pinkerton was sick and confined to his 
bed in Louisville, at Elder John Carr's. I went to Louis- 
ville next morning, and found him in a very dangerouf 
condition. I watched him and took care of him by nighi 
and by day for more than six weeks and a half — watchin[ 
with the deepest anxiety every change of that priceless life 
as it hung trembling in the balance, and doing all in my 
power to save it. I got no sound sleep during all that 
period, and very little broken rest. I could not sleep 
while the inattention of an hour might be fatal to one 
whose life was so dear to me, and so valuable to his fam- 
ily and the community. His case baffled the skill of sev- 
eral of the best physicians in I^ouisville that were in at- 



SICKNESS. 



317 



tendance upon him. He finally began slowly to recover, 
and, as soon as a little improved, he was put into a rail- 
car by Brother J. B. Bowman (who had come down to see 
him), and, with his wife and daughter Virginia (who had 
also come down), was taken by rail and stage to his home 
at Harrodsburg. I visited him again in the forepart of 
December, and found him still very feeble, but slowly im- 
pi'oving. I left Harrodsburg in a few days for Indiana, 
and did not meet him again until I saw him in Louisville, 
in March, 1863. He gave me a very pressing invitation 
to visit him again ; which I did soon after, remaining dur- 
ing the rest of the season mostly at Harrodsburg and ad- 
jacent neighborhoods. 

** The Doctor was a warm advocate of the proclamation 
of emancipation which resulted in the overthrow of Amer- 
ican slavery, which had long been the opprobrium of the 
great Model Republic. 

*' I had the happiness of an acquaintance with Dr. Pin- 
kerton for about thirty-six years. I knew him most inti- 
mately in the various relations of life. I often spent weeks, 
and sometimes months, with him in his happy, excellent 
family ; was often with him in the social circle and in pub- 
lic — often enjoyed the pleasure and benefit of his public 
ministrations as a preacher of the gospel and as a teacher 
of the way of righteousness and life. I always found him 
strictly just and honorable, most genial, kind, and tenderly 
affectionate — ever true to principle as the needle to the 
pole. 

** I never discovered in him, in all my long and intimate 
acquaintance with him, the least attempt to impose upon 
himself or any other person in the smallest matter. His 
outer life was certainly the exact counterpart and expo- 
nent of his inner life and convictions. He was one of 
the very few who were always true to principle. He verily 
loved righteousness and hated iniquity. He prized the 
truth above all beneath the sun, and, with singleness of 



3i8 



LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 



heart, searched for it with all the earnestness of his ar- 
dent nature, and was therefore enabled to find it : for it 
is only to such that the truth renders up her secrets and 
her treasures — she never unvails herself to the insincere 
and dishonest inquirer. For the Doctor knew very well 
that the truth — divine and saving truth — alone could make 
him free ; and that if made free by the truth, he would be 
free indeed. 

** He was strictly loyal to God, to the truth, to his coun- 
try and his kind. He was an impersonation of the true, 
the merciful, the honorable, the beautiful and the good. 
No man was more ready to forgive an injury than he if 
the offender gave the least evidence of repentance ; and 
if at any time too severe in his judgments or reproofs, 
as soon as convinced of his error he was always prompt 
to make the amende honorable. 

'^ He had the warmest sympathy for the unhappy chil- 
dren of poverty and misfortune, and it gave him real 
pleasure to supply their wants and to mitigate their sor- 
rows and sufferings. He wept with those who wept, and 
rejoiced with those that rejoiced. 

*' He was himself the very soul of sincerity, and he had 
no toleration for pretense and shams; and for meanness 
he had the most ineffable contempt. He was not a man 
of policy, but of robust and incorruptible integrity. And 
of all the genial, lovely spirits whose friendship and soci- 
ety I have had the happiness and honor to enjoy, he was 
to me the most genial and lovely. There was in his so- 
ciety a charm which was altogether captivating. 

*'He was a Christian gentleman and philanthropist of 
the highest type. He espoused the cause of the freedman 
from a sense of duty to God (who made of one blood all 
the families and nations of the earth), and as a matter of 
humanity to a down-trodden and oppressed race, and con- 
demned and exposed in terms of just and manly severity 
the cruel wrongs inflicted on this helpless and much in- 



HIS MANLINESS. 319 

jured people — though at the risk of losing the friendship 
and of incurring the bitter opposition of many to whom 
he had been tenderly attached. He also had the moral 
courage to rebuke, in no very measured terms, those who 
had been elevated to or had assumed a sort of leadership 
in the great Reformatory Movement of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, for observing a profound silence in regard to the 
grievous wrongs and injuries done to this friendless and 
oppressed people, and for not daring to utter or publish 
one brave, philanthropic word in their defense. This 
manly Christian course, which a sense of duty constrained 
him to pursue, raised up against him a host of bitter, re- 
lentless enemies — men who ought to have been his friends, 
and to have aided him in his work of humanity for this 
poor and injured race. But they proscribed and ostra- 
cized him, and deprived him of employment and support 
as a minister of Christ, though he had done greatly more 
than any of them for the cause of the Lord, and was still 
able to do for the great cause of human redemption much 
more than any of them. 

**But though traduced and persecuted, he never low- 
ered the standard which he had unfurled for God, for the 
truth, for his country and humanity, but continued to up- 
hold it with rare and unflinching courage, and with most 
signal ability, until God called him from his labors of 
love, and from the trials and conflicts of the present life, 
to the honors and rewards of the pure, the true and the 
good, in the land of the blest. And with what eternal 
honors and beatitudes will the blessed Jesus crown him 
in the presence of an assembled universe on the great 
day of retribution ! 

**As a public speaker the Doctor's manner was conver- 
sational. He entered at once into the discussion of his 
subject. There was a directness and naturalness in his 
manner and arrangement — a clearness in the presentation 



320 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

of his thoughts — an appropriateness in his imagery and 
illustrations— a deep earnestness and unmistakable sincer- 
ity in his whole manner — which, with the just and prac- 
tical nature of his teaching, at once arrested and riveted 
the attention of the thoughtful hearer. His word paint- 
ing was singularly vivid and striking. His pictures were 
not labored, but struck off at once by a single touch of 
his skillful brush, and stood out life-like and in full pro- 
portions upon the canvas, beautiful and lovely to behold. 
He had a fine imagination, and his metaphors were not 
only original and striking, but often surpassingly sub- 
lime. 

^'It is not the deepest, but the shallowest waters that 
are always the most noisy. Though Dr. Pinkerton*s man- 
ner was calm and self-possessed, yet his discourses were 
marked by great depth of thought and wonderful pathos. 
They generally reached the lowest deeps of my heart and 
often affected me to tears. He possessed marvelous and 
unrivaled powers in rousing up drowsy souls to a sense 
of their danger and delinquencies, and of their grave du- 
ties and responsibilities. The value of his discourses did 
not consist simply in the very important truths which he 
uttered, but were greatly enhanced by their marvelous sug- 
gestiveness and their wonderful searching power. They 
came from a clear head, a warm, true, and tender heart, 
and from eloquent lips — filling the soul with celestial light 
and warmth, suggesting new trains of thought, and kin- 
dling into a blaze divine truths that lay inert and dark- 
ling in the mind, until the whole soul, in every nook and 
corner, was full of celestial light. Errors and transgres- 
sions, duties and obligations, are at a glance so obvious 
that the eyes of the understanding are instinctively turned 
full upon them, and the thoughtful, conscientious hearer 
finds himself at once engaged in the most searching self- 
introspection. Various errors and duties, before not seen 
at all, or seen but obscurely, are brought out into distinct 



AN EFFECTIVE PREACHER. 32 1 

vision, and now seen in their full proportions, in the clear 
light of divine truth — the former to be repudiated and 
avoided in future, the latter to be faithfully and religiously 
observed. No hearer with any such faithful and trouble- 
some monitor in his bosom as a conscience, thinks of 
turning over the lesson to his neighbors. He feels in it 
too deep a personal interest. He wants to be right him- 
self, and, if possible, to become faultless in the eye of 
God, and is therefore happily appropriating the valuable 
instruction to the correction and improvement of his own 
life, that it may tell upon his conduct, his happiness, and 
his destiny, in all the boundless future. He sees too 
plainly his own short-comings — the discrepancies in cer- 
tain respects between what his inner and outer life have 
been, and what they ought to have been, and must be 
if he would hope to inherit the riches and honors and 
beatitudes of immortality in' the everlasting kingdom of 
our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ — to turn the lesson over 
to others and leave his own needy soul unrefreshed and 
his own imperfect life uncorrected and unimproved. Old 
resolutions are strengthened and new ones formed, to live 
a purer, more elevated, and more worthy Christian life 
— to strive for that perfection of life and character which 
shall fit him by taste and habit for the enjoyment of the 
Divine presence, the pure and elevated society of the Di- 
vine and peerless Hero of human redemption, with that 
of all the pure and the good, in the realms of endless 
bliss. 

*'The discourse is not intended to hit off any one, nor 
for the amusement or entertainment of any one : that were 
unworthy of Dr. Pinkerton, and were a desecration of the 
pulpit ; to turn it to any such purpose is an offense to God 
and a flagrant wrong to the soul of the offender. Life is 
too short, and its duties and responsibilities too grave, for 
any one thus to trifle with valuable opportunities for moral 
and spiritual improvement. The discourse is intended for 



322 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

the benefit and improvement of all the hearers, as they 
shall answer to God, whose eye is upon them, seeing how 
they improve or abuse their opportunity. No one who 
desired to live the life of the righteous, in order that he 
might die his death, could sit down and listen to the 
Doctor on any of the great themes of Christianity, for 
forty or fifty minutes — the usual length of his discourses — 
without rising up a wiser and better man. 

'*I heard Dr. Pinkerton, in the summer of 1869, at 
Greensburg, Indiana — at Indianapolis in October, 1870 — 
at Chicago in February, 1871 — and at Bloomington, Illi- 
nois, the same week — on the Absolute Religion — the 
Christian Religion. He took for his theme the First and 
Great Comma?idmeni : *^ Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and 
WITH ALL THY STRENGTH ; '' and the Second, which is like 
unto it: **Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." 

"He treated these great commandments as the supreme 
and fundamental laws for the government of human con- 
duct both toward God and man. He held that obedi- 
ence to these supreme laws was primary and fundamen- 
tal, and essential to all acceptable worship and service 
of God — and without which the religion of any man was 
empty and vain ; that with these great commandments 
rooted and grounded in the understanding of a man, and 
held in his heart, with a firm and unwavering faith, in all 
their fullness and mighty power, it is not likely that he- 
would fatally err. The full acceptance of these great 
commandments in all their depth and comprehensiveness 
would certainly prepare and lead a person to search the 
Scriptures with the most anxious solicitude, if able, in 
order to ascertain the will of God — and if not in his 
power, to inquire most diligently of those supposed to be 
best able to inform him ; — and would certainly constrain 
him to obey from the heart all subordinate command- 
ments and to perform all the minor details of the whole 



THE ABSOLUTE RELIGION. 



323 



revealed will of God according to the best lights he could 
obtain. This love of God and man in the human heart 
would expel from the bosom of its possessor all selfishness 
and all seciarianism ; for selfishness is the predominance 
of self-love over the social affections or the love of one's 
neighbor. The selfish man is not an upright man, be- 
cause he leans to himself; he is not a righteous man, 
because this inclination to himself prevents his doing to 
others as he would they should do to him : but the love 
of his neighbor as himself leads him to an upright life, 
and constrains him to do to others as he would they 
should do to him. Sectarianism in its real nature is a 
love of party, or of partisan power and honor, over and 
above the love of God, and of the honor which comes 
from God alone — leading the sectary to make void the 
commandments of God, by substituting- in lieu thereof 
the traditions of men, or by obeying the commandments 
of men instead of the commandments of God. ' But in 
vain they worship me,' said Jesus, * teaching for doctrioes 
the commandments of men.' If they loved God with all 
the powers of their emotional nature such trifling with 
divine authority would be impossible, unless done unwit- 
tingly under the influence of false teaching sincerely taken 
to be true and diyine. For Jesus says, * If a man love me 
he will keep my words ' — and, ' He that loveth me not 
keepeth not my sayings.' 

'^ Though I always held and taught that the Christian 
profession required the surrender of the whole heart and 
life and all to the Lord Messiah, who gave up life and 
all for us, and that our love to God and to his beloved 
Son must be supreme and paramount to all else in the 
universe besides — that we must obey from the heart every 
divine commandment and conform our lives to every di- 
vine principle in the revealed will of God — that we must 
love our neighbor as ourselves, and do to others as we 
would they should do to us ; and as the blessed Jesus so 



324 LIFE OF L. L. PINKERTON. 

loved lis as to lay down his life for us, we must so love 
the brethren that, if necessary, we will lay down our lives 
for them — and that this great principle of love is to the 
moral and spiritual universe what gravitation is to the ma- 
terial, binding man to man, and men and angels to the 
throne of the great Eternal — yet from Dr. Pinkerton's 
discourses on the Absolute Religion, drawn from the 
two great commandments, I derived more benefit in a 
spiritual point of view than from any other series of dis- 
courses I ever heard. Those were wonderful discourses, 
[ndeed. Dr. Pinkerton as a teacher of Christianity stood 
without a rival ; his peer was nowhere to be found, so far 
as known to me. He ought to have been sent out as a 
missionary to our churches, to wake up our brotherhood, 
to reconvert or to thoroughly convert them to the Lord, 
if possible, and to put them on the high and heavenly 
way of purity and holiness, of justice, mercy and godli- 
ness, of enlarged beneficence, and of true Christian lib- 
erality and happiness. 



DOCTOR L. L. PINKERTON. 



BY MRS. M. R. BUTLER. 



I. 

Oh, life that has passed from our vision away ! — 
To the hearts that shall seek and not find thee 

The light shall grow dim in the face of the day, 
And the shadows shall lengthen behind thee. 

And yet we are glad thou hast entered thy rest 

Ere the sun of thy life had sunk low in the west, 

II. 

Thy lot has been weary, thy pathway was hard, 

Dear heart — can we weep for the ending. 
When thy beautiful dreams were all broken and marred 

In the van of the battle contending ! 
But 'tis always the same with the heroes that wage 
A war with the errors and sins of an age. 

III. 

We think with regret of the life that is spent, 

But soul never dies, and the arrow 
Death leaves in the bow of a purpose still bent 

Speedeth on to its purpose to-morrow. 
And thy thought shall not die, but live on and expand 
Into deeds that are noble and lives that are grand. 

IV. 

Thou hast fought through the evil, still holding the right; 

Thou hast finished the task that was grandest — 
Toiled on through the darkness and entered the light, 

And now in the glory thou standest. 
Though tears stain the way where in pain tluni hast trod, 
'Twas in parallel linos with the purpose of Ciod. 

(325) 



2,26 POEM. 



We weep for the bowl that is broken, but uAink 
The wine is not spilled, and forever 

At the crystallized cup of thy purpose we drink, 
And grow strong by thy earnest endeavor. 

Not so hard 'tis to die as to live and be true. 

Let us drink and grow stronger to will and to do. 

VI. 

Oh, feet that now walk in a beautiful place, 

Thy errands of mercy are over ! 
Oh, beautiful soul in a toil-hardened face, 

Humanity weeps for a lover ! 
But now, looking up through our tears, we can see 
'T is a glory-lined cloud that encompasseth thee. 

VII. 

We think of thy lips that are frozen and dumb 
And sigh for their closed revelation ; — 

But now in the land of the Kingdom to come 
They are touched with a new inspiration : 

An Apostle to witness His glory to-day. 

Thy soul is not dumb though thy lips are but clay. 

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